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THE STRONGER CLAIM 


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BY THE SAME AUTHOR 


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THE 


STRONGER CLAIM 


BY 

Mr*. ALICE PERRIN 

— 



NEW YORK 

DUFFIELD y COMPANY 
1910 


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Copyright, 1903, by 
ALICE PERRIN 


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The Stronger Claim 


CHAPTER I 

The insufferable heat of the Indian hot-weather 
day was slowly abating, and the sun sank sullenly 
below the straight, misty horizon in a copper- 
coloured haze of dust raised by the cattle return- 
ing from the jungle. It was little enough that 
the poor beasts had found to graze on during 
many weeks past, for the rains were long over- 
due, and leaves and grass were alike scorched 
and withered till they crumbled at the touch. 
The ground, hard as iron, had cracked and split 
into gaping fissures ; the powdery dust lay ankle- 
deep on the roads ; the air was thick and stifling ; 
and the very birds gasped for breath, holding 
their dry beaks despairingly open. 

Still the tantalising clouds gathered heavily 
and dispersed again; still the hot, unhealthy east 
wind came in faint puffs, only to die hopelessly 
away without bringing the longed-for rain; still 
the heat grew and grew till business was at a 
standstill, famine was daily drawing nearer, and 
long lists of deaths from fever and heat-apoplexy 
filled the domestic columns of the Anglo-Indian 
papers. 

At Pragpur it seemed that matters must have 


2 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


reached their worst, for now that the rains had 
failed to come and wash away disease and dirt 
and fill up the miles of pestilential swamp along 
the widening river-edge, cholera of a particularly 
vicious type had made its way into the densely 
packed native city. Constant funeral processions 
filed towards the river; the air resounded with 
the wailing of mourners for the dead; the burn- 
ing-grounds were crowded from sunrise to sun- 
set; and in the Mahomedan cemeteries fresh 
graves were needed every hour. It was a time 
of misery, suffering, terror, and death, not only 
in the seething cholera-stricken city, but in Civil 
Lines and Cantonments also; when the white 
man, as weir as his dark brothers, rose each day 
with the probability staring him in the face that 
he might be lying cold and stiff before the sun 
went down. 

Only that morning Paul Vereker, the young 
joint-magistrate, had risen from his bed to all 
appearances a strong, healthy man; and now in 
the evening he lay dead in the empty, echoing 
bungalow, with not a living soul near him save an 
old blind punkah-coolie seated in the verandah 
pulling mechanically at the rope, and fanning his 
master’s lifeless body with the regularity of clock- 
work. 

The old native did not clearly understand what 
had happened. He had heard the sahib come in 
and speak to the mem-sahib ; then the doctor had 
been sent for; and he, the punkah-coolie, had 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


3 


been bidden to pull the bedroom punkah. This 
he had done for about an hour, and then he had 
heard a great commotion — the mem-sahib had 
screamed, and the servants had all begun to run 
backwards and forwards. Then the doctor had 
arrived, and after some time, perhaps another 
hour, had driven away again, and in a little while 
the mem-sahib and all the servants seemed to 
leave the house. Nobody had said anything to 
him, so he had continued to pull according to 
orders, and he would do so for any length of time 
in reason until he was either relieved at his post 
or told to cease. The room inside was quiet save 
for the regular flapping of the punkah-frill, and 
the occasional cry of an inquisitive bird through 
a ventilator in the ceiling. The minutes passed 
and dusk came slowly on ; and still he pulled, but 
more slowly now, for he was growing drowsy, 
and his wrinkled, sightless face drooped towards 
his knees. 

Presently the sound of small, pattering foot- 
steps on the paved floor of the verandah broke 
sharply on the stillness, and a little boy, dressed 
in a white sailor suit, ran into the house and 
pushed open the closed door. There was an ex- 
pression of anxious inquiry in his large bright 
eyes ; but he trotted confidently up to the bed and 
looked into his father’s face. 

“Dadda!” he said. 

Receiving no answer, he shook the cold hand 
that hung heavily over the edge of the bed. 


4 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


“ Dadda, arise ! ” he shouted in fluent Hindu- 
stani. “ Mamma is at my grandpapa's bungalow 
and the ayah and the servants also. She weeps 
and will not speak to me, and the ayah and the 
bearer forbade me to return here. What is the 
meaning of it all?” 

He shook the hand again and called to his 
father repeatedly, till the echo of his shrill little 
voice rang up into the roof. Then he ceased, 
and glanced apprehensively over his shoulder. 
The room was growing dark, and his father lay 
so strangely still. There was nobody at hand to 
tell him what was the matter except the punkah- 
coolie, and the child felt afraid to cross the 
gloomy expanse of room that lay between himself 
and the door. A nameless terror crept into his 
baby mind. He burst into loud screams, and, 
with the self-abandonment common to Anglo- 
Indian children, he threw himself on the floor 
and rolled from side to side. 

“Aree!” and the ayah poked a fat, nervous 
countenance in at the door. “May evil befall 
that rascal of a bearer for permitting the child to 
run back! Come hither, sonny, — quick! — quick! 
See what is outside ! The man with the perform- 
ing monkeys has arrived and awaits thine or- 
ders.” Then in a low voice, under her breath, 
she added : “ May Kali protect me ! but I cannot 
enter the room with the sahib lying there dead of 
the cholera!” 

The child stopped crying and sat up to listen, 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 5 

his mouth still puckered, ready to resume his 
yells should the ayah’s words prove false ; but she 
reiterated her statement regarding the monkeys 
with so much emphasis that he was finally con- 
vinced; and also being rather glad than other- 
wise of her company, he allowed himself to be 
enticed through the doorway, where treachery 
awaited him, for there were no performing mon- 
keys to be seen, and he was promptly caught up in 
the ayah’s stout arms and carried screaming and 
struggling to a house on the opposite side of the 
road. 

The noise of his unwilling' departure had 
hardly died away before the civil surgeon drove 
rapidly in at the gate and up to the bungalow. 
As he sprang out of his trap the utter silence of 
the house and the surroundings struck him sig- 
nificantly. He entered the deserted drawing- 
room and passed through into the bedroom be- 
yond. Only a little more than three hours ago 
he had seen Paul Vereker die of cholera, and 
almost at the same moment he had been sum- 
moned urgently to another case of the same 
description. Before responding to the message 
he had told the terrified, hysterical widow that 
he would return to her as soon as possible; and 
now he had come back to find the dead man alone 
except for the old coolie pulling sleepily at the 
punkah rope. 

The doctor looked down at the handsome, rigid 
face, with pity in his eyes. 


6 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


“ Poor chap ! " he murmured. “ Perhaps this 
was the best thing that could happen to him. 
Fancy her bolting off like that! I’m not sur- 
prised at the servants — but his wife! Well, if 
she'd had a little more English blood in her veins 
she couldn't have done it." 

He folded the hands across the breast and 
drew the sheet over the white face, called to the 
coolie to cease pulling the punkah, and then, 
worn out though he was with days and nights of 
weary battle with death, he drove off to make 
arrangements for the funeral. 

For twenty-four hours after her husband's 
death Mrs. Vereker lay on the bed in her mother's 
best bedroom in a state of tearful untidiness, her 
rich black hair in wild disorder, and a crumpled 
dressing-gown loosely covering her ample form, 
for since the arrival of the boy, little Paul, Mrs. 
Vereker had “ lost her figure." Seven years ago 
she had been a really beautiful girl of eighteen, 
and was now still a handsome woman as far as 
features were concerned; but the brilliant rose- 
colour in her cheeks had faded, her skin had 
grown thick and yellow, and her chin had multi- 
plied by three. 

It was a pity Paul Vereker could not have had 
a vision of the future that fatal evening at the 
Pragpur band-stand, when he had fallen in love 
with the beauty of Una Jahans. Certainly her 
mother, a copper-coloured lady attired in apricot 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


7 

silk, and redolent of musk and onions, ought to 
have been sufficient warning; but young Vereker 
had only been eighteen months in India, and 
though he was clever, well-born, and promising 
in every official way, he was unfortunately con- 
vinced that he knew his own business best, which, 
as is frequently the case, meant the following of 
the inclination of the moment, and led to his 
espousing Miss Una Jahans, the daughter of an 
Eurasian auctioneer. This gentleman trafficked 
in second-hand rubbish of every description, 
from articles of furniture to damaged tins of fish 
and sausages ; and he was a god-send to English 
officials when they were transferred from the 
station, for he either purchased from them litter 
that was not worth moving, or disposed of it on 
commission in the bazaar, realising astonishing 
prices for such things as useless lamps, worn-out 
clocks, old clothes, cracked crockery, and leaky 
kitchen utensils. 

The ladies of Pragpur took it upon themselves 
to remonstrate with young Vereker on his en- 
gagement, and to tell him that the girl, though 
undoubtedly lovely, was by heritage ‘‘as black 
as his shoe,” and also practically uneducated; 
but vainly the well-meaning matrons talked, 
argued, and expostulated. It was useless for his 
men friends to chaff him on the subject of his 
pretty half-caste flame, or more seriously en- 
treat him not to make an ass of himself. His 
nature was such that opposition and persuasion 


8 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


merely had the effect of making him more than 
ever determined to take his own line and to show 
that he had the courage of his opinions. 

“ I have no doubt,” he said to the Commis- 
sioner’s wife, when she frankly expressed her 
regret and vexation, “that you would like me 
better if, even now, I threw the girl over and 
broke her heart. In that case I should lose my 
own self-respect ; at present it appears that I only 
lose the respect of my so-called friends, though I 
cannot see that I am doing anything more repre- 
hensible than marrying to please myself without 
harming any one else.” 

Paul Vereker was his own master, as he re- 
minded himself and every one who interfered 
with him. His parents were dead and his only 
sister, who was ten years his senior, was married 
and independent ; his other relations were distant 
and of little consequence in the matter. Ac- 
cordingly he set public opinion at defiance in 
Pragpur, announced the date of his approaching 
marriage, drove the young lady about the station 
in his trap, and even appeared at the band-stand 
in the Jahanses’ waggonette, sitting behind with 
Una and her two small brown brothers, together 
with Mrs. Mactarn, an elderly snuff-coloured 
aunt of the family, whose late husband had 
claimed Scottish descent; Mrs. Jahans, arrayed 
in all the glory of the apricot silk, triumphantly 
occupied the box-seat beside her husband the 
auctioneer, an important Spanish-looking person 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


9 

with handsome features and long dyed whis- 
kers. 

So Paul Vereker was given up in despair by 
all his well-intentioned advisers, and was allowed 
to pursue his downward course without further 
molestation. At first he was very happy with the 
wife he had chosen, but the time came when he 
began to understand that he had brought official 
as well as social displeasure upon himself through 
his marriage. A civilian with an impossible 
" mem-sahib ” can hardly be selected for a trans- 
fer to places where there are social as well as 
official duties, and where the right description of 
hostess is necessary, or none at all. So he saw 
other men, who were his contemporaries, pro- 
moted to more important charges, or exalted to 
the secretariat, while he remained on in his old 
capacity at Pragpur, where everybody was aware 
of his wife's origin, where her people constituted 
an unfailing and inevitable aggravation of his 
mistake, and where he found himself forced to 
depend almost entirely on Una and her relations 
for companionship. 

Mrs. Vereker herself was a self-centred young 
person who had justly been considered a great 
belle in her own circle, with all the bachelor half- 
caste clerks, and subordinates in the Government 
offices, at her feet. She had an album, the pride 
of her leisure hours, wherein her admirers had 
inscribed their sentiments after the cracker-motto 
style. She knew the language of flowers by 


10 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


heart, and she kept a manuscript-book in which 
she made extracts from novelettes. She was an 
extremely pretty and brainless girl, but brain- 
less Paul Vereker did not discover it until it was 
too late. However, here his natural character- 
istics came to the fore. He would not admit by 
word or deed, or hardly to himself, that he had 
made a mistake. Una was the wife he had 
chosen ; nothing should induce him to allow that 
his judgment had been at fault; and circum- 
stances should not control him. Therefore he 
continued to live his life with Una as though he 
were absolutely contented, and made no outward 
sign of his secret mortification. 

But with Una it was different. She had been 
honestly in love with the young civilian, but her 
love was as nothing compared with her ambition. 
When he had proposed it had appeared to her 
that all her dreams of a splendid match were to 
be realised. Certainly he was not so handsome 
and dazzling as the young officers who danced 
with her at the Volunteer balls, or ogled her at 
the band, but he was a member of the senior serv- 
ice in India and some day would be a Commis- 
sioner, even perhaps a Lieutenant-Governor ! 
She would drive about in a lovely carriage, oc- 
cupy an exalted social position, and have every- 
thing that represented happiness to her narrowed 
imagination. 

So after her marriage Una became excessively 
“ select,” and proceeded to neglect all her former 
friends and to barely tolerate her relations — but 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


ii 


on this point her husband interfered. The fact 
of her having married into a different class was 
to him no reason why she should behave badly to 
her own people; and at Mr. Vereker’s instiga- 
tion, the Jahanses, the Passanahs, the de Souzas, 
and all his wife’s other belongings were given to 
understand that they would be welcome at the 
house whenever they chose to visit their relative 
— and they took full advantage of the permis- 
sion. 

Regarding the “ Upper ten ” of the station Una 
was bitterly disappointed; a few of the ladies 
called on her formally and she returned their 
visits punctiliously, but there the social recogni- 
tion ceased. Some of the subalterns came for a 
joke, and made cruel fun afterwards of her 
“ chi-chi” accent and ridiculous little airs. No- 
body came a second time, and when at last Una 
began to realise her position her exasperation 
with her husband for his calmness under such a 
state of affairs knew no bounds. 

It was useless for him to argue that the cov- 
eted friendship of the station ladies could scarcely 
be worth having, since it was evidently of little 
value. Una received such moralisings with 
scorn. What was the advantage of her having 
chosen such an elegant English carpet for the 
drawing-room all over yellow roses; and such 
fascinating mirrors, what-nots, and black and 
gold tables, if no one was to come near her? 
Where was the pleasure of being a future Lieu- 
tenant-Governor’s lady if there were no visitors 


12 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


to recognise her success save her own relations, 
whose admiration was now becoming exceedingly 
stale? Una wept many angry tears, and finally 
commanded “Pahl,” as she called her husband, 
to take her to England, where nobody would 
know that her father was only a bazaar- 
auctioneer. 

She relapsed into violent hysterics when he 
explained that furlough was not due to him, and 
that in any case he had no desire to go home just 
yet. To impart the truth, he felt inward qualms 
at the prospect of presenting Una to his sister. 
Lady Jar dine. He had written to the lattetr 
announcing his engagement, merely stating his 
fiancee's name, and adding that she was very 
handsome ; and Lady Jar dine, accustomed to her 
brother’s reticent nature, and being in no way 
inconvenienced by the marriage, had sent wed- 
ding presents and gushing letters of congratula- 
tion, serenely taking it for granted that Paul had 
chosen a wife from his own class. 

So the years went by, Una falling back entirely 
on her old friends and admirers for companion- 
ship, and Paul becoming more and more impas- 
sive and reserved, until the day arrived when 
Death claimed him from the daily bitterness of 
his life’s mistake; and Una was left a fat, indo- 
lent widow, with a boy of five years old who had 
inherited much of his father’s obstinacy of char- 
acter, combined with the strong strain of native 
blood from his mother’s side. 


CHAPTER II 


Two months had gone by since Paul Vereker 
was laid to rest in the Pragpur cemetery, and the 
heavens had been merciful. Rain had fallen, and 
continued to fall, the hard parched earth had 
spluttered and hissed beneath the welcome tor- 
rents of water, the air had been damp with steam 
in the intervals of the downpours, vegetation had 
revived as though by magic, and grass and plants 
had grown with a rapidity that was almost per- 
ceptible. 

The Jahanses’ compound, instead of being a 
desolate patch of bare, dusty ground, was now a 
tropical forest in miniature, with festoons of 
flaming creepers, and vivid green tangles of giant 
weeds. Within the low thatched bungalow 
everything was sodden and mildewed with the 
damp ; small frogs hopped across the floors, fish- 
insects dotted the walls, the atmosphere smelt 
close and mouldy, and was strongly impregnated 
with the stale odour of native tobacco — for, in 
spite of the disapproval of his family, Mr. Jahans 
persisted in the indulgence of an evening 
“ hookah.” 

In the broad verandah sat Mrs. Jahans packed 
into a comfortable rocking-chair, her front hair 
tightly screwed up in curling-pins, her feet thrust 
into yellow slippers made of antelope skin, and 
13 


14 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


her body clothed in a garment that was appar- 
ently built of check cotton dusters. The veran- 
dah was crowded with rickety chairs and tables 
(mostly spoils from the auctioneering business), 
rows of plants in pots, and wicker cages imprison- 
ing pet squirrels, tame doves, a talking myna, 
and two noisy partridges. The floor was covered 
with tattered matting, rotten with the damp, and 
eaten into holes by the white ants. 

Stretched indolently on a cane couch opposite 
her mother’s rocking-chair lay Mrs. Vereker, 
and the two ladies were deep in a discussion over 
a letter Mrs. Jahans was holding in her fat 
brown hands; her broad face glistened with ex- 
citement as she expostulated with her widowed 
daughter. 

“ Oh, no ! ” she cried, “ do let me advise you. 
Don’t send the child all that way. He would 
forget us altogether in two weeks’ time. It 
would be a terrible t’ing ! ” 

The letter which had thrown the good lady 
into such a state of perturbation was from the 
late Mr. Vereker’s only sister and nearest rela- 
tive, offering a home in England to the widow 
and her child, and Mrs. Vereker had added con- 
siderably to her mother’s agitation by suggesting 
that it might be as well to accept the proposal 
on little Paul’s behalf, though she intended to 
decline it on her own. She was shrewd enough 
to have discovered during her married life that 
these relations of her husband’s were people of 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


15 

some importance, and she perceived how great 
an advantage it would be to the boy to have 
the rearing and education of an English gentle- 
man. 

At present she possessed nothing beyond her 
own pension and that of the child, and she knew 
that Sir Robert and Lady Jardine were rich even 
for dwellers in England, where she had a hazy 
notion that every one was well-to-do. She re- 
membered the photograph in her husband’s pos- 
session of a stately massive house with pointed 
gables, mullioned windows, and stacks of chim- 
neys, standing amidst wide sweeps of lawn varied 
with flower-beds and spreading trees. She had 
gathered that many servants were employed, and 
that the stables were full of carriages and horses. 
Undoubtedly the Jardines were great people, and, 
moreover, they were childless. 

For herself the widow now shrank from the 
notion of leaving the country where she had 
been born and bred, and of which she was more 
than half a native. The thought of journeying 
to an unknown land and living amongst strangers 
terrified her — hence her suggestion that Paul 
should go alone, which had called down a storm 
of reproaches on her head. But she stuck to 
her point. 

“ It would be better for him to go,” she said, 
and continued to reiterate the sentence at the end 
of every argument put forward by Mrs. Jahans, 
who was unable to grasp the advantages of the 


1 6 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

proposal. To her it seemed a monstrous and 
unnatural proceeding that her adored grandson 
should be torn from the bosom of his family and 
sent across the “ black water ” to face unknown 
dangers and discomforts. 

“It would be better for him to go,” Mrs. 
Vereker had repeated for the twentieth time, 
when the dilapidated family waggonette, drawn 
by a gaunt country -bred horse (both acquired 
years previously at one of Mr. Jahans’ own auc- 
tions), rumbled up to the verandah steps, and the 
head of the household clambered down from the 
vehicle. He had had a long day’s work conduct- 
ing an important sale, had shouted himself 
hoarse, and exhausted his brain inventing face- 
tious remarks to encourage hilarity amongst the 
buyers; and he called petulantly for his tea as 
he threw himself into a wicker chair that loudly 
resented his weight. 

His wife eagerly handed him the letter under 
discussion, and he read it thoughtfully, while he 
caressed his straggling whiskers, and ignored the 
ceaseless and voluble explanations of his spouse. 
When he had finished reading the letter he 
handed it back to her, and looked inquiringly at 
his daughter, who monotonously repeated her 
opinion. 

“ It would be better for him to go — but not 
for me.” 

“Una says right,” was the verdict of Mr. 
Jahans, delivered in a thick guttural voice. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


1 7 

“Well, I never!” screamed his wife, “you 
bad, selfish man. You don’t know what is best 
for the child. He cannot speak much English, 
he has a tender stomach, he needs to be rubbed 
every night with mustard-oil. Who would take 
care of him ? There is no mustard-oil in England, 
and there is too much cold and rain ! He would 
die; he shall not go — you cannot understand — 
you are a dull!” 

Una placidly watched her mother weeping tears 
of distress, while Mr. Jahans stroked his whiskers 
and regarded with concern the black stain that 
came off on his fingers, until an interruption 
occurred in the shape of a disreputable Mahome- 
dan servant in dirty white clothing who issued 
noisily from the house with the tea-things, which 
he proceeded to arrange on one of the wooden 
tables. Then Mrs. Mactarn appeared, half 
asleep after a recent siesta, and wearing a star- 
tling blouse of a tartan persuasion. She was 
immediately attacked by her sister, made to read 
the letter, and invited to give her opinion. But 
Mrs. Mactarn was in favour of the scheme from 
vague patriotic motives — only regretting that the 
Jardines did not live in Scotland, “ though they 
go there, of course, for the hot weather, like all ! ” 
she added conclusively. 

Una’s two brothers, who had now blossomed 
into their father’s assistants, next joined the cir- 
cle, and, when appealed to by their indignant 
mother, unhesitatingly decided against her, for 


18 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

the child meddled with their belongings while 
they were safely out of the house at business, 
stole their photographs and love-letters, told tales 
of their misdoings, and made himself generally 
obnoxious. 

Poor Mrs. Jahans was in despair. 

“ You are all against me ! ” she sobbed. “ The 
dear child shall say himself if he wants to go 
away from, this home.” And she lifted up her 
voice and shrieked discordantly in Hindustani 
for the ayah, ordering her to bring the boy hither 
without delay ; and though neither ayah nor child 
were in sight, the ear-piercing accents had 
scarcely died away before the two appeared round 
the corner of the house together. 

The little boy wore a battered pith sun-hat 
several sizes too large for him, which sank down 
on his ears, causing them to spread wide from his 
head. His small face was thin and pointed; his 
eyes were of a curious olive-green colour and 
unnaturally large, with a fretful expression in 
their depths; his mouth was dirty; and he 
clutched some sickly native sweetmeats in his 
slender hands. He ran forward and scrambled 
on to his grandfather's knee. 

“ They want to send you away, sonny ! ” wailed 
his grandmother. “ They are cruel, selfish peo- 
ple — your mother and your uncles and all! You 
do not wish to go, do you, my batchaf ” 

Little Paul preserved an inattentive silence ; but 
Mrs. Jahans continued to assure him vehemently 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 19 

that, but for her, he would be sent away at once, 
until at last, becoming alarmed, he took refuge in 
her lap, from whence he scowled at the rest of 
the company, though he declined to speak in 
answer to his grandmother's piteous entreaties as 
to whether he wished to go or stay. 

“We will hear what others have to say,” she 
concluded at last; and with a gesture of deter- 
mination she turned to the ayah and pointed to a 
small thatched bungalow in the next compound. 
“ Go and tell Passanah Mem-sahib and the Miss- 
sahibs to come and drink tea ! ” she commanded. 

The ayah arranged her clothing and shuffled 
off, and the next diversion was the arrival of 
Mrs. Passanah and two gaudily dressed daugh- 
ters, thin, weedy half-castes, cousins of Mrs. 
Jahans, who fed from the crumbs that fell from 
their more wealthy relatives' table, and clothed 
themselves on the earnings of the eldest girl, who 
went out as a daily nursery-governess. They 
seated themselves as near to the tea-table as possi- 
ble, and were loud in their praises of little Paul — 
that being a safe short-cut to Mrs. Jahans' 
favour. The party then attacked the meal spread 
on the table : the Miss Passanahs ate large slices 
of bread and butter, spread with coarse country 
sugar; Mr. Jahans had a dish of poached eggs 
with some dal and rice; and the others preferred 
cake and buns, Paul refusing to eat anything, 
but calling thirstily for lime-juice and water. 
Mrs. Jahans explained the dilemma they were 


20 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


placed in by Lady Jardine’s letter, whereupon the 
Passanah trio took the view expressed by their 
hostess, for they dared not risk endangering the 
supply of native vegetables they were accustomed 
to receive every other morning from the Jahanses’ 
garden, not to speak of the eggs, goat’s milk, and 
clarified butter that found their way from the 
larger bungalow to the smaller one in the next 
compound. 

So every one except Mrs. Vereker and her 
father talked at once, the boy screaming for 
things he was not allowed to have, and the myna 
chattering vigorously, while the two partridges 
became excited and called deafeningly from their 
cage. 

While the hubbub was at its height, an ekka 
(or two-wheeled native vehicle) had approached 
the house unnoticed, and, halting in front of the 
verandah, attracted the attention of the party 
round the tea-table. Instantly the silence of an 
unpleasant surprise fell upon them, and they 
exchanged glances of impatient vexation as the 
frowsy cotton curtains that concealed the pas- 
senger inside were drawn slowly open. 

An old native woman climbed painfully from 
her perch and stood gazing with piercing black 
eyes at the group of people before her. She 
wore a cotton petticoat, and a little white wrap- 
per over her head and shoulders ; her mouth was 
almost toothless, her skin wrinkled and seamed, 
and her back was bent with age and rheumatism 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


21 


till she looked as if she were making a perpetual 
obeisance. 

Mr. Jahans rose and stepped forward to meet 
her, and with his assistance she hobbled up the 
steps, muttering to herself and casting sharp, 
suspicious glances around her. 

The family skeleton had appeared at the feast. 
This was the mother of Mr. Jahans and little 
Paul Vereker’s great-grandmother. 

The story of Mr. Jahans' parentage was one 
that was common enough in the days when it 
took six months to reach England from India, 
when men settled down and made their homes in 
the East, and when English ladies were scarce. 

In the compounds of some of the old official 
residences in out-of-the-way stations that have 
known better days, there may still be seen the 
ruins of square enclosures with high walls, and 
narrow rooms leading from the courtyard in the 
centre. Here in the old days dwelt the “ Zenana ” 
of the sahib, for high-caste native women were 
known to have thrown in their lot with English 
officials, and to have lived respected and honoured 
in orthodox seclusion until death, or the man’s 
retirement to the mother country, severed the 
connection. Sometimes a real marriage accord- 
ing to English law took place, and there is at 
least one authenticated case of a native woman, 
undoubtedly the widow of a Bengal civilian, who, 
after many years, was suddenly enlightened as to 
her legal right to a pension from the Government, 


22 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


and claimed, with partial success, the enormous 
sum due to herself and her family. 

Mr. Jahans’ father had been in the service of 
the old East India Company; he had spent over 
thirty years in the country without going home, 
and had lived in almost regal pomp and splen- 
dour — finally dying from the accumulated effects 
of spiced dishes, beer, and “ brandy-pawnee/' and 
dinners that had lasted from three o’clock in the 
afternoon until midnight. He bequeathed his 
savings, which were considerable, to the hand- 
some Hindu woman who, for the last ten years 
of his life, had ruled his household discreetly 
from behind the “ purdah,” and had beguiled the 
long hot idle hours with her songs and blandish- 
ments, who had been no clog to his sports and 
pleasures, who had loved him with a combination 
of reverence and tenderness, and had never given 
him a moment’s uneasiness. 

She had mourned his loss, but had accepted 
the inevitable in true native spirit, had settled her 
affairs, dismissed her small court of attendants, 
and betaken herself and her little half-caste son 
to her native city — Pragpur. Here she had lived 
ever since in the utmost retirement, occupying a 
handsome white stone house down by the river 
standing well away from the road in a garden of 
orange trees, pomegranates, limes and mangoes, 
which screened the dwelling from passers-by ; and 
here she had applied herself to the propitiation 
of the priests, and by liberal donations to the 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


23 

temples and promises of future benefactions, had 
practically succeeded in re-establishing the caste- 
position she had forfeited through her connection 
with the Englishman. She was of a pious turn 
of mind, gave largely to the Brahmins, and fed 
innumerable beggars. 

Mr. Jahans was fond of his mother and feared 
and respected her, but Mrs. Jahans resented the 
relationship as proof positive of her husband’s 
native blood. She had been a Eurasian girl with 
some fortune, and passively prided herself on her 
English extraction, and her contempt for “ these 
black people,” as she called the natives. Her 
mother-in-law she seldom mentioned, and it was 
tacitly understood in the family that the old 
lady’s existence was a tabooed subject. In fact, 
only the latent fear of her husband’s slowly pro- 
voked wrath, and the danger of losing the wealth 
they confidently expected to inherit, kept Mrs. 
Jahans from repudiating the relationship alto- 
gether. 

On rare occasions “Bibi Jahans,” as she was 
known in the bazaar, paid her son’s wife a visit 
and always without the slightest warning, and 
had several times thrown the fastidious lady into 
an agony of shame and rage by putting in an 
unwelcome appearance when company of a high 
order was being entertained — such as the wife 
of the Deputy Collector, or Mrs. Watson, the 
missionary lady, who lived only a few compounds 
off and took a deep interest in little Paul. “ Bibi 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


24 

Jahans ” was devoted to her great-grandson and 
since Mr. Vereker’s death and the widow’s return 
to her own people, the old native woman had 
been a much more frequent visitor. 

This afternoon she chuckled maliciously as she 
glanced around her, well knowing the annoyance 
that her presence caused her son’s wife, and as 
she advanced into the verandah she cracked her 
knuckles over little Paul’s head, and devoutly 
muttered a spell against the spirits of evil. She 
embraced her reluctant daughter-in-law, said 
“ Ram Ram ” politely to the rest of the company, 
and refusing the proffered chair, squatted on her 
heels with many grunts, and inquired what they 
had all been discussing with so much energy. 

“ Truly thou wert as parrots making ready to 
roost in the branches ! ” she added, with a con- 
temptuous flip of her fingers. 

Mrs. Jahans looked inquiringly at her husband. 
She supposed the matter of the letter would have 
to be explained and the old woman consulted as 
to Paul’s future. At any rate she felt tolerably 
certain that for once her husband’s mother would 
uphold her opinion on the subject, and she pro- 
ceeded at a nod from Mr. Jahans to relate in 
voluble Hindustani the contents of the letter and 
the subsequent disagreements in the family. 

“ I say he is too young to go to England now. 
When he is bigger and stronger then let him go 
— much better to wait.” 

The crone listened and her sharp eyes blazed, 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


25 

she spat on the ground with vehemence, and her 
withered lips curled over the few remaining 
stumps of teeth with an angry snarl. 

“ Bah ! ” she cried in her shrill cracked voice, 
“ thou doest things but by halves, woman. Keep 
the child in his own country if thou wilt, but give 
him back to the gods and his own people. With 
thy notions will he come to manhood like my 
son, thy husband, neither a Hindu nor an Eng- 
lishman, despising his birth on the one hand, 
and despised by the white people on the other. 
Thou mayest talk and pretend and mimic the 
ways of the white ones, but thou art a kerani 
(half-caste) and nothing will make thee aught 
else.” 

“ My great-grandfather’s people lived in Lon- 
don — on the Hill of Notting,” began Mrs. Jahans 
indignantly, but the Bibi waved her to silence and 
turned to Mrs. Vereker, pointing at her with a 
crooked finger. 

“ What sayest thou, widow ? Thy Lord was a 
white man and a sahib, even as was mine. Dost 
thou desire that thy son should strive to follow 
feebly in his father’s footsteps? Send him to 
his father’s country and he will in time curse the 
day he was born; keep him in this land and he 
will curse thee also ; but give him back to the gods 
and to the dark race, yield him up to the stronger 
claim that is within him — then may he prosper 
and bless thy memory.” 

“ But he is an English boy,” protested Una 


26 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


angrily; “how could I give him over to the 
priests and let him become a Hindu? You are 
talking foolishness ! ” 

At this the hag laughed loud and long with 
harsh crackling sounds, and pointed with derision 
to the delicate little face under the sun-hat. 

“An English boy!” she mocked, and she 
laughed and chewed the betel-nut in her mouth 
till little red streams of the juice ran out at the 
corners and down her chin. She rose to her 
feet and stood swaying to and fro, leaning on her 
stick, and regarding her descendants with malig- 
nant amusement. 

“ Here thou sittest,” she continued, “ and talk- 
est. But thy words are as the wind and have no 
substance. Who is to lead thee and say the 
word? Thou, Jahans ‘sahib/ as thou callest 
thyself — ‘ Kuriv a’ (dung-hill) was the name I 
gave thee at birth to protect thee from evil, seeing 
that my first-born was smitten with the small-pox 
and died — thou art afraid! Why permit the 
women to chatter and quarrel ? It is better that 
they should listen than talk, for it is a sad house 
where the hen crows louder than the cock. As- 
sert thy manhood. Give the order. Say, is the 
child to go across the black water or shall he stay 
in his native land?” 

“But what can I say?” growled Mr. Jahans, 
rendered sulky by the reference to his protective 
name. “ I wish to do what is best for the child, 
but how can I say what is best ? I cannot tell.” 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


27 

“ Then I will decide/’ retorted his mother in a 
voice of authority. “ The boy shall stay with 
his people.” 

Instantly a clamour of mingled assent and pro- 
test arose from all but Mr. and Mrs. Jahans, who 
remained silent, one with doubt and the other 
with satisfaction. 

“ But it would be better for him to go,” wailed 
Mrs. Vereker, raising her monotonous voice 
above all the rest. 

“ I have spoken,” said the old woman loftily. 
“ My son, thou knowest my desire. Other- 
wise,” with significance, “the priests may ben- 
efit.” 

And the unwelcome visitor drove away well 
satisfied, and fully aware of the discord she had 
left behind her. 

Mrs. Vereker burst into tears, Mrs. Jahans was 
openly triumphant, and her husband fled into the 
house to find solace in his hookah. 

“There, you see! ” said Mrs. Jahans, “now it 
is all right and settled. The Bibi is a wise woman, 
although she is black. If we go against her 
wishes she will not leave us one piece of her 
money. It will all go to the priests by the river 
in the Fort temple; ‘a bird in the hand/ you 
know! Don’t cry, dear,” leaning forward and 
patting her daughter’s shoulder affectionately, 
“ she will not live for much longer, and then, 
when Paul is bigger and we have gQt the money, 
you can send him home if you want, and he will 


28 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


not feel so strange and Ion dee. Take heart,” she 
added, as though she herself had had no inclina- 
tions either way. 

Mrs. Vereker’s desire to send Paul to his rela- 
tions in England died hard, and she argued and 
complained for some days ; but Fate in the shape 
of old Bibi Jahans had been too strong for her, 
and she knew that to send the child away now 
might ruin the chances of his great-grand- 
mother’s wealth ever coming to the family. 
Finally she wrote reluctantly declining Lady Jar- 
dine’s offer, at any rate for the present, but hinted 
that she might be glad to avail herself of the 
home for the boy when he was a little older. 

With all her heart she wished that the gods 
would be considerate enough in the near future 
to summon the old native woman to their pres- 
ence for ever. 

So little Paul’s life went on in the same groove 
as that of thousands of country-born children. 
He rose at dawn and played in the verandah or 
the compound until the heat of the day set in, 
and the heavy twelve o’clock breakfast was 
ready; and when this was over he went to bed 
in a darkened room and slept away the long hot 
hours, awaking fretful and languid, with no 
appetite for food, and only an incessant craving 
for iced water. Then, the air having cooled, he 
went out along the dusty roads perched on a 
weedy chestnut pony, escorted by the ayah armed 
with an enormous umbrella, and a groom leading 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 29 

the wretched little animal with as much caution 
as though it were a ferocious wild beast. 

Sometimes Paul went into the neighbouring 
compounds to play with other Eurasian children, 
or they visited him, and they all squatted on a 
thick striped drugget under a tree, and for the 
most part allowed the ayahs to amuse them, or 
they listened with precocious understanding to 
the women’s gossip among themselves. When 
bedtime came the child would be in no mood for 
sleep, and the evening toilet, which included the 
important rubbings with mustard-oil, was a pro- 
longed affair, interspersed with fits of temper and 
gusty disagreements with the ayah ; often a point- 
blank refusal to swallow the supper of bread and 
milk, and perhaps a visit to the dining-room, 
where his indulgent grandmother would allow 
him to taste the curried vegetables and chutney, 
and highly spiced mince boluses that constituted 
the Jahanses’ late dinner. During the cold weather 
the child thrived better. The sharp mornings 
braced him, and he was able to be out all day, 
and the wood fires in the evenings made him 
sleepy and more inclined to rest; the food was 
fresher too, and he was able to take more nour- 
ishment. 

But three years, which would have made so 
much difference in the appearance, habits, and 
constitution of a purely English child, brought 
comparatively little change to Paul; and though 
his skinny limbs grew longer, and his small face 


3 o THE STRONGER CLAIM 

perhaps more preternaturally grave, he clung to 
many of his baby ways, screamed when he was 
thwarted, spoke but little English, and as the hot 
weather came round again might still have been 
seen riding the patient chestnut pony at a snail’s 
pace in the evenings, guarded by the ayah with 
the big umbrella. 


CHAPTER III 


“ The Bibi Jahans sends her salaam. Her health 
is troubling her. She desires that the babba 
should be permitted to visit her this afternoon.” 

The messenger stood in front of Mrs. Jahans’ 
bungalow in the strong morning sunlight — an old 
native dressed in grotesque imitation of a Gov- 
ernment peon, with a red sash, turban of the 
same colour, and a brass badge. Paul, who knew 
him well, ran out of the house to greet him. 

“ I will come — I will come,” he piped shrilly, 
for he loved going down to the white bungalow 
by the river, where his great-grandmother gave 
him native toys and sweetmeats, and let him 
wander down to the fort walls and talk to the 
priests at the temple. 

“Now! now!” called Mrs. Jahans from the 
depths of the verandah, where she was weighing 
out grain for the goats and fowls — “ what is the 
matter, Piru Lai?” 

The man repeated the message, while the child 
clung to his hand. 

“ He cannot come till late, then,” replied Mrs. 
Jahans testily at the top of her voice. She hated 
having to obey the summons, but dared not re- 
fuse it. “What is wrong with her health?” 
31 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


32 

she inquired hopefully, advancing to the veran- 
dah steps brandishing a pewter spoon. 

“ Again she hath fever. She is growing old 
and feeble.” 

" Yes, that is true — we cannot stay young al- 
ways. Well, say the babba can go, but not till 
the day cools.” She dismissed the man with a 
wave of her spoon, and, turning, encountered 
her daughter issuing lazily from the house. 
“ Oh ! there you are, Una ! Paul is to go to the 
bhurya (old woman) this evening again. She 
is always sending for him. There is only one 
thing to be said — it is better than her coming 
here. Piru Lai brought the message, and he 
says she has fever again. She is often ill now. 
I think she takes opium — nasty stuff ! ” 

"Very likely,” said Una languidly. "I must 
see that Paul goes in his best suit and that he 
wears his new hat.” 

“ A string of beads and a dhoti would please 
her better,” laughed Mrs. Jahans. 

“ I know, and I always take care when he goes 
there that he looks properly English! I wish 
she would not send for him; but it cannot be 
helped.” 

Therefore Paul was made to look as aggres- 
sively European as possible, according to his 
mother’s notions (which meant red velvet with 
brass buttons, and a pair of kid gloves which the 
child tore off the moment he was out of her 
sight), and was started off with the usual caval- 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


33 

cade of ayah, syce, and pony down the dusty 
white road, which sloped a little as they neared 
the river. 

Bibi Jahans’ compound felt close and stuffy, 
for the fruit trees kept the air away, though 
they effectually screened the house from view. 
The old lady was sitting in the verandah on a 
string bedstead, amidst a mass of dirty white 
pillows, trying to smoke a hookah, but in reality 
having little energy or inclination for anything. 
Her eyes were dull and listless, and her skin felt 
dry and burning to the child as she laid her hands 
on his head. 

“ Salaam, little one,” she said, drawing him 
to her side, “ thy great-grandmother is very sick 
with the fever, but the sight of thy face will do 
her good. Sit here on the edge of the charpoy 
and relate to me all that thou hast been doing. 
Go, you people,” she added to the ayah and the 
syce, “ go to the cook-house and smoke with the 
servants, and thou, Piru Lai also,” to the old 
messenger who was in constant attendance on his 
mistress, “I will call thee later.” 

Paul perched himself on the edge of the rickety 
bedstead and dangled his legs, while his great- 
grandmother lay back amongst her pillows and 
closed her eyes. 

“ I have done but little,” said Paul, reflecting, 
“except that I killed a scorpion under the mat- 
ting in my bathroom yesterday; also one day 
last week I drank some white water which I 


34 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

found in my mamma’s room in a little bottle and 
I was very sick. She was angry, and said it 
was not meant to drink but to make the face 
white — oh! and one day I went to see Mrs. Wat- 
son, the padre-mem-sahib. She is very kind, 
and she taught me to say a hymn and told me to 
come to the mission church; but mamma does 
not go there— she goes to the big English church 
where there are soldiers and no black men, and 
she says I should only get tired and want to go 
away in the middle. Mrs. Watson has all the 
servants into the drawing-room to do pooja, even 
the mali and the sweeper, and they sit on 
chairs ” 

The child babbled on, heedless of the fact that 
the old woman was apparently not listening; but 
presently, when he got tired of the recital of his 
doings, he wriggled from his perch on the bed 
and began to run up and down the stone verandah 
with loud clumping of his thick, country-made 
shoes. The noise roused her, and she gazed 
at him with vacant eyes sunk deep into her 
head. She muttered some meaningless words 
and beckoned Paul to her side. 

" Kuriya ? ” she said softly. 

“ That is not my name ! ” replied Paul with 
indignation; but she paid no attention to the 
remonstrance; her mind had wandered into the 
past, and she mistook him for her son at that 
age. 

“ Make ready,” she continued dreamily, gazing 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


35 

before her — “ make ready for the coming of the 
huzoor. It is the hour when my lord groweth 
weary with the work of the government and 
cometh to his slave to be soothed and rested. 
Put out a seat for the sahib, child, and welcome 
thy father when thou seest his face. I will sing 
him the song that he loveth, and press his tired 
forehead with my palms that are soft as down, 

till the weariness depart ” 

Paul stared in amazement at the old woman 
with his thumb in his mouth. What was she 
talking about? Evidently she was expecting a 
visitor, so he did as he was told, and, pushing 
a dilapidated chair forward, waited expectantly 
for the guest, while Bibi Jahans sank again into 
her nest of pillows, crooning snatches of song in 
a feeble, quavering voice. Presently with an 
effort she struggled into a sitting posture and at- 
tempted to put her feet to the ground ; but though 
Paul gave her the ebony stick she always used, 
and also offered her his hand to help her up, she 
was forced to lie down again, tears of weakness 
and delirium trickling over her furrowed cheeks. 

“ What is it you want ? ” inquired Paul. 
“ Shall I bring anything to you? ” 

“Yes, child, the box — the sandal-wood box 
beneath my pillow on the bed within the dwelling. 
Bring it hither.” 

The boy passed through the long glass doors 
leading from the verandah to the bedroom — a 
vast chamber almost empty save for a magnificent 


36 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

Persian carpet on the stone floor, and a wooden 
bedstead inlaid with gold wire and hung with 
a fine mosquito net. He felt under the pillow 
and found a brown carved box, which he carried 
to the old woman, who opened it with trembling 
fingers and invited him to inspect the contents. 

“See thy father, little Kuriya,” she mur- 
mured, taking a picture in her hand — “ thy 
father, the Englishman, who is just and kind and 
ever straight in all his dealings. Thou dost not 
resemble him, child. The little one that died of 
the small-pox was in his image: he had the fair 
hair, and eyes blue as the sky, of my lord’s 
people, and we called him * Billam,’ after his 
father. When thou earnest, little dark one, I 
gave thee a shameful name to avert the attention 
of the evil ones. Thou art of my folk and hast 
more of their blood than thy share ” 

She bent whispering over the faded miniature, 
crudely painted by a native artist, of a stout bald 
man in a blue coat and brass buttons, whose light 
eyes glared without expression from his highly- 
coloured countenance. 

Paul turned over the things in the box with 
eager curiosity, now paying no attention to his 
companion’s wanderings, which to him were 
meaningless. She was behosh (delirious) with 
fever, he concluded; he was quite accustomed to 
hearing people talk nonsense when they were ill 
with the common sickness of the country. A fat 
gold watch with a clumsy case took his fancy. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


37 


and he held it up, dangling the bunch of heavy 
old seals that hung from the fob. A handsome 
silver mouthpiece for a hookah was also there, 
for in the old days native and European customs 
were not held so far apart as they are now; 
and an oblong gold snuff-box, which he opened, 
spilling the brown powdery contents that flew 
into his face and made him sneeze. Underneath 
these things was a bundle of faded yellow letters 
with franked envelopes, and addressed in sloping 
pointed writing, to “William Johns, Esquire — 
Of the Most Honourable East India Company’s 
Service” — but these he pushed aside, as they 
meant no more to him than they did to his great- 
grandmother, who, being unable to read English, 
little knew that she was treasuring love-letters 
written long ago by a young lady at Bath, who 
had subsequently disappointed the gentleman in 
the blue coat and brass buttons by espousing 
“ another ” instead of fulfilling her vow to join 
him in India ; which cruel behaviour had possibly 
been at the bottom of his seeking the solace of 
an enclosed native dwelling at the back of his 
large bungalow. 

At last Paul wearied of prying into the box, 
and leaving the old woman lost in the past over 
the relics of her lover, he slipped away down the 
verandah steps and wandered into the garden. 
The ayah and the syce were busy gossiping and 
smoking with the other servants on the far side 
of the house, and for the time he was free to 


38 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

dabble his hands in the water of the little stone 
aqueducts that irrigated the garden from the 
creaking well, worked by a pair of patient white 
bullocks. He could suck a lime which was for- 
bidden, pull the heads off the marigolds and 
asters, try to catch the grey squirrels as they 
darted to and fro, and call to the green parrots 
as they rustled in the orange trees. Once he 
stepped hurriedly aside and watched a thin brown 
snake glide into a hole beneath a tree. He must 
tell his great-grandmother about this, and ask 
her to have a little saucer of milk placed beside 
the hole daily to propitiate the sacred reptile. He 
wondered that the gardener had not seen to the 
matter. 

He rambled on to the edge of the compound, 
which was bounded by a hedge of tall dusty aloes, 
and presently he passed through the white pillars 
that guarded the entrance, though gate there 
was none. The ground across the road shelved 
down to the river bank, which just here was green 
with huge pumpkin leaves and dotted with fisher- 
men and basket-weavers. Further away on the 
narrow stretches of sand that rose in islets from 
the river could be seen the thick brown forms of 
two or three crocodiles lying half in and half out 
of the water. Paul walked quickly along the* 
side of the road till he came to the unmetalled 
track that led to the shrine of Hanuman, the 
monkey-god, beneath the towering red walls of 
the fort ; and then he ran, for he was anxious to 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


39 

see his friend the priest before he should be over- 
taken and recalled by the ayah. 

He skirted round the massive red walls of 
sandstone — Akbar’s mighty fort standing sen- 
tinel over the junction of the sacred rivers — and 
came upon a peaceful scene. The blue waters 
flanked by the yellow sand, a little group of huts 
hardly more than a few sticks and some matted 
straw, a gay patch of royal marigolds filling the 
air with their pungent scent, two or three idle 
pilgrims sitting or lying about the side of a curi- 
ous sunken shrine that looked like a square tank, 
until, on leaning over the edge, could be seen the 
extended image of Hanuman, the monkey-god, 
“ he of the long jaws.” 

Paul did not quite like looking over alone, but 
holding the hand of the old attendant priest he 
had often gazed with awe upon the idol, painted 
a vivid scarlet symbolical of the blood sacrifice, 
lying on its back, a gigantic figure with arms and 
legs outstretched in a menacing attitude, the huge 
mouth reaching from ear to ear, and fierce staring 
tinfoil eyes. The child carefully avoided the 
edge of the shrine, and approached the little 
shelters, from which loud snores were issuing. 

“Oh! Baba-jee!” he piped. “Behold I am 
come.” 

And letting his voice rise and fall in true na- 
tive fashion he continued to call his friend until 
the bald head of an old Brahmfn priest peered 
sleepily forth. The holy man wore a saffron- 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


40 

coloured wrapper, a string of carved beads round 
his neck, and the sacred cord over his left shoul- 
der. 

“ Is it thou, little one ? It is many days since I 
have seen thee,” he grunted, raising himself with 
an effort, for his limbs were stiff, and the prox- 
imity of the shrine to the river encouraged his 
enemy rheumatism in spite of all the goodwill of 
the gods. 

Then he hobbled out into the mellowing sun- 
shine, and throwing the saffron robe about his 
body, squatted down lazily on the edge of Hanu- 
man’s resting-place, and sprinkled some holy 
water over the deity’s sacred person. Paul sat on 
his heels by the priest’s side and bombarded him 
with questions, feeling secure from the influence 
of the glaring eyes and warlike limbs while in 
the company of the Baba-jee. 

“ And so the fair-time is over, and will not 
come again for many months,” said Paul, regret- 
fully. The annual pilgrimage in the month of 
January to the junction of the sacred rivers had 
always been a time of excitement to the child for 
as long as he could remember. He had never 
been permitted to mingle with the crowd, but it 
meant streams of people passing the compound- 
gates all day and all night, singing, tramping, and 
calling salutations to the gods; it meant curious 
toys and wonderful sweetmeats that the servants 
brought back for him from the scene of mingled 
holiday-making and religious observance; and 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


4i 


once the ayah had taken him to the fort, and 
from the high parapet he had looked down on 
the seething multitude struggling in and out of 
the water ; he had gazed over to the island where 
the fakirs congregate, while he listened entranced 
to the ayah’s stories of miracles and wonders, 
and had longed to join in it all himself. 

“ Nine moons from now must pass before the 
place will be filled with a multitude of pilgrims,” 
replied the old Brahmin, “ and not for three years 
after that will the great festival be held.” 

“And why not for three years?” asked the 
boy. 

“ Because the time cometh but every twelfth 
year, child, when the sun and moon are specially 
favourable, and the fakirs gather here, having 
completed their round of visits to holy spots. On 
the great day do they march in procession to 
bathe — a sight the like of which could not be 
seen anywhere else the whole world over. At the 
yearly fair-time have I beheld many thousands of 
pilgrims, but at the Koombh Mela have I seen as 
many as three millions come and go during the 
weeks of the fair-time.” 

“ And how many Koombh Melas hast thou wit- 
nessed, father ? ” 

“ Six have I known — the first when I was still 
a 4 batcha ’ like thyself, and the last but nine years 
back; perhaps one more, maybe two, shall I see 
if it please the great God to preserve this worth- 
less life. When thou art a man grown and can 


42 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


do as thou wilt, thou shouldest bathe at the auspi- 
cious time in the holy water and shave thy head 
— so glorifying thy body and spirit ” 

He gazed at the child’s eager face, and his eyes 
took a misty, far-away expression. 

“ And the monkey-god ? ” prattled the boy, not 
heeding the priest’s words, “ will he be here for 
the next great fair? How long has he lain on 
this spot ? How did he come here ? ” he con- 
tinued, with childhood’s insatiable thirst for in- 
formation. 

“ He will be here for all time,” answered the 
other, “ and he hath been here since no man can 
say when; but in the olden days, when the gods 
walked the earth and were manifest to men, did a 
boat come down the stream bound for the city 
of saints — and the vessel bore the image of 
Hanuman, the great hero, who is also called 
Mahabir. But on reaching the junction of the 
holy rivers did the boat rest, and no human aid 
could move her on her way. Then was the god 
that thou seest before thee removed from the 
vessel and placed here on the river side. That 
was countless ages past; and then in time the 
great King Akbar built the fort. Though of the 
unclean faith, he was ever a man who respected 
and showed consideration for the true religion of 
the Hindus. He raised the fort around the tem- 
ple of Siva, which was built thousands of years 
before the coming of the Moghuls, and is to this 
day within the walls. He also respected this 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


43 

shrine of Hanuman, and left it in peace, for 
which may his soul reap virtue and reward. He 
knew in his wisdom that there be many roads to 
heaven, and that each can enter in at his own 
gate ; but,” he concluded, with a change of voice 
and a rueful sigh, “ I would that the god had 
been pleased to rest farther from the water, for, 
during the rainy season, the mud covereth the 
sacred being, and there is much trouble in 
cleansing and clearing it away. Also the damp 
of the river entereth my bones, and causeth pain 
and stiffness.” 

Here a couple of stray visitors to the shrine 
advanced reverently and dropped their offerings 
of money on to the red figure, interrupting the 
droning recital of the priest, who, reminded of 
his duties, sprinkled holy water afresh, and 
chanted a hymn of praise. 

The red glow of the setting sun enhanced the 
vivid colouring of the idol, and gleamed with a 
crimson glare from the wide tinfoil eyes. The 
flapping paddy-birds had begun to take deliber- 
ate flight across the flushed glowing sky, and the 
cranes and waders at the water’s edge screeched 
discordantly as they bestirred themselves to 
search for their supper of small fish. The wind 
had dropped and the old priest’s nasal chant 
sounded clear and resonant as it penetrated 
through the still, soft air. Little Paul sat dream- 
ily silent, his eyes holding the mystic unwordly 
expression so characteristic of Oriental blood. 


44 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


Instinctive attraction and the sense of long cus- 
tom filled his being with a calm contentment, 
though he could not have explained why he felt 
happier here, in the present atmosphere, than 
when he was at home, unconsciously torn both 
ways by the mingled habits of East and West. 

The last notes of the Baba-jee’s chant died 
away, and were followed by the mellow tinkle of 
a bell from within the fort walls. Paul rose to 
his feet. “ Listen, father,” he cried, “ it is the 
bell of the Temple of Siva. Take me within and 
let me behold the undying fig-tree which they say 
has lived and put forth leaves ever since the tem- 
ple was made. Come — I fear to go alone — and 
I wish so much to enter.” He pulled impatiently 
at the hand of the old man, who rose with 
many grunts and straightened his stiff joints. 
Paul plucked a bunch of yellow marigolds for 
an offering, and the pair, holding each other’s 
hands, made their way through the loose sand to 
a narrow entrance in the fort walls, opened for 
the convenience of the pilgrims who at the fair- 
time wish to pay their respects to the symbol of 
Siva, and to inspect the miraculous fig-tree. 

Up the dark sloping entrance they climbed, the 
child holding tight by the priest’s fingers and 
breathing hard with excitement, then down a 
few rough stone steps which led to a long under- 
ground passage lighted by coarse wicks floating 
in saucers of oil placed in the niches in the wall, 
which shone black and clammy. The passage 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


45 

finally terminated in a square, vault-like chamber, 
where sat the silent meditative figures of two 
fakirs before a block of stone that glistened with 
the anointing of oil and butter. Surrounding it 
were little piles of money and bunches of sacred 
flowers. 

“ Bare thy feet — profane not the abode of the 
gods,” reminded the Baba-jee, and Paul hastily 
slipped off his shoes. One of the fakirs rose 
slowly ; he was thin to emaciation, with wild 
locks of hair hanging on either side of his face. 
A greeting passed between him and the new- 
comer, who explained that the child desired to 
view the fig-tree. 

“ Behold ! ” said the fakir, pointing to the cor- 
ner; and Paul saw what was little more than a 
rootless stump, with some withered leaves that 
had sprouted during the fair-time three months 
ago. This was supposed to be the identical trunk 
that had stood there since the founding of the 
temple — and only the most shameless of unbe- 
lievers held that it was secretly changed every 
year by the priests. 

Paul was shown a square hole beyond the fig- 
tree, and was told that it led into a passage that 
connected the temple with a holy city nearly a 
hundred miles away; he also heard how, only a 
few days previously, the god had come to visit 
the shrine in the form of a cobra, and might even 
then be at hand, so that care must be taken in 
placing down the feet. At this he peered some- 


46 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

what anxiously about, and felt an involuntary 
curling up of his toes, though he reassured him- 
self with the reflection that in all probability the 
god would take very good care not to get trod- 
den on. 

“Thine offering, little one,” said the Baba-jee; 
“ the flowers are in thy hand, and here is a silver 
piece of money for thee to give.” 

“ I have a two-anna bit in my pocket,” said 
Paul with importance. “ I will make offering 
with that also.” 

He did reverent obeisance to the idol and laid 
the coins and the hot little bunch of marigolds 
before it. Then he gazed about him with a 
feeling of awe and mystery, while the holy men 
murmured to each other, and the black surface 
of the lingam, the symbol of Siva, gleamed in 
the uncertain light of the primitive lamps. 

The child felt drowsy, the misty glitter of the 
stone affected his eyes; the close atmosphere, 
the hum of hushed voices, and the thick heavy 
scent of sandal-wood and incense began to over- 
power his brain; gradually he yielded to the un- 
fightable languor that crept over him, and, as in 
a dream, he sank upon his heels with his back 
against the damp wall. Then the voices of the 
priests grew louder and roused him, a blessing 
sounded in his ear, something wet was placed on 
his forehead, and he heard the Baba-jee saying, 
“ Come, child, thou hast received thy blessing, 
and the mark on thy forehead which is the sign 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


47 

that thou hast done thy pooja in the temple. 
The daylight is fading — we must depart.” 

Paul started and looked round. He put his 
hand to his forehead and found the half-dried 
caste-mark of sandal wood and ashes. He drew 
a long breath, tried to control himself, and then 
burst into tears. Still weeping, he was led con- 
cernedly by the old priest, who spoke soothing 
words, along the passage into the daylight ; across 
the sand they saw the ayah running distractedly, 
and calling to her truant charge in shrill tones. 
She swirled towards them, her petticoats flying, 
the silver bangles on her wrists and ankles jan- 
gling, her face puckered with anxiety, and a 
scolding torrent of words pouring from her 
mouth. 

Suddenly she checked herself, and stood star- 
ing at the child’s face, then salaamed and looked 
with respectful inquiry at the old Brahmin, who 
pushed the boy gently towards the woman. 

“ Go, my son,” he said. “ Go with thine ayah. 
Maybe thou wilt return — if not soon, perhaps 
later — but if the gods have need of thee thou wilt 
obey.” 

He invoked blessings on Paul’s head, and 
slowly made his way to the shrine of Hanuman; 
and the child, hurried along by the ayah, turned 
often to look at the bent figure, the saffron robe 
deepened to orange by the dying sun, until the 
walls of the fort hid the scene from sight. 

“ Come, sonny, hasten,” said the ayah, “ it is 


48 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

late, and the syce and pony wait on the road. 
The mem-sahib will be angry that we have tarried 
so long, and we must not return to the dwelling 
of Bibi Jahans, but go straight home. ,, 

Paul, still dazed with the sudden change from 
the dimness of the temple and his own unac- 
customed violence of emotion, laboured over the 
dusty ground in the ayah's wake to where his 
steed awaited him. He rode in silence till they 
reached the Jahanses' bungalow, which was al- 
ready lighted up with oil-lamps, for darkness 
was rapidly approaching. 

Mrs. Vereker was alone in the drawing-room 
when her son came slowly in, dragging his weak 
loose ankles, and a fretful complaint of weariness 
on his lips. She looked up from her novelette. 

“ Come to mamma, sonny," she said affection- 
ately, and as he shambled towards her she gave a 
little cry. 

“What have you got on your face, child? 
Where have you been ? ” 

Paul put up his hand to the now dry mark on 
his forehead. He rubbed a little of the powder 
off and looked at his finger. Then he was true 
to his descent. 

“ I have only been to my great-grandmother's,” 
he lied glibly in Hindustani. 

“And did she put that mark on your fore- 
head?” asked Mrs. Vereker sharply. 

“ Yes, without doubt,” said the child, knowing 
he should get into trouble and the ayah too, 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


49 

should his visit to the temple be discovered. Then 
he called the ayah, who was loitering in the 
verandah. 

“ Did not the Bibi Jahans mark my face? ” he 
demanded, and the ayah silently acquiesced. 
“ She hath fever, and it pleased her, so I said no 
word against it. She was without sense by rea- 
son of the sickness, and I expect, ,, he added 
thoughtfully, “ that she will die.” 

“I wish she would!” cried Mrs. Vereker 
vehemently, “ she is making a regular little native 
of you. It is too bad. A!nd if I had had my 
way you would have been with your uncle Sir 
Jardine now, who would have left you all his 
money and his title, and made a great man of 
you. Now you are growing up a kerani like the 
rest of us,” she admitted bitterly, “ and I cannot 
stop it ! Go to bed, and see that the ayah washes 
those dirty native marks from your face.” 


CHAPTER IV 


Mrs. Watson, the missionary’s wife, entered her 
house by the back verandah and threw her large 
pith sun-hat into a chair with a gesture of weari- 
ness. All the long hot morning she had been 
expounding the Gospels to her class of native 
Christian women and girls, teaching them to sing 
new “bhajans” (Hindustani hymns) and, with 
Tabitha, the half-caste Bible woman, going over 
accounts of sales in the Zenanas of Testaments 
and tracts 

“John!” she called, “are you back?” She 
looked into the sparsely furnished bedroom of 
the little, bungalow, and, seeing no one, passed 
on into the front verandah where a table was laid 
for the late breakfast. Her clever face with its 
rather prominent features and clear grey eyes, 
was prematurely aged and lined from exposure 
to the heat, overwork, frugal living, and the con- 
stant uncontrollable longing for the presence of 
her children, who were being educated in Eng- 
land by comparative strangers, while she and her 
husband toiled and struggled in exile to reclaim 
the soul of the “heathen.” For the last month 
her eyes had held a glow of anticipation, for the 
separation would soon be over, and her heart’s 
desire was to be granted. Mr. Watson had been 
asked to go home for the purpose of undertak- 
50 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


5i 

in g a series of mission sermons to be preached at 
various centres, and the tour was to occupy six 
months. When the rains broke they were to 
start, and to the yearning mother, counting the 
days that were yet to pass, it seemed that each 
week grew longer than the other. Here was the 
end of March and they were not to start till the 
middle of June. 

She stood on the steps and watched her hus- 
band’s tall thin figure, with the slightly stooping 
shoulders, walk up the drive. 

“ You are very late,” she said, trying to keep a 
fretful inflection out of her voice as he ap- 
proached, “you must be tired.” 

“ Yes, a little,” he owned, raising his hat from 
his hot forehead as he came into the verandah. 
“ I have had a busy morning in the school, and 
also preaching in the bazaar. I trust I have been 
privileged to touch one heart at least this day. 
I was rejoiced to notice that the old grain- 
merchant at the corner shop of the chota-bazaar, 
who you know is generally so rude and obstruc- 
tive, came and listened quietly to the Word, and 
finally bought a New Testament — though I am 
bound to confess that he haggled for it shame- 
lessly and got it at a reduced price. Still I feel 
that the good seed has been sown, and the knowl- 
edge is very uplifting.” 

The man sat down with a sigh of bodily 
fatigue which was instantly checked. His face 
was thin and narrow, the eyes deep sunken, with 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


52 

the expression of a visionary, a saint, a martyr. 
His faith burned strong and clear, his hope was 
unquenchable, and frequent discouragement and 
disappointment merely made him more zealous 
for the fight, while the slightest progress in the 
right direction raised him to a pinnacle of confi- 
dent enthusiasm. 

“And you, my dear?” he said affectionately, 
laying his hand on her shoulder. 

“ Oh, my usual work,” she replied in a matter- 
of-fact voice as she measured out the tea — “ sing- 
ing hymns, teaching, accounts, and one or two 
worries. You know that pretty little low-.caste 
woman who came to us a few days ago ? ” 

“ Yes, of course. She sought the protection of 
the mission because she was so cruelly persecuted 
by her husband and people for listening with 
eagerness to our teaching. What of her?” 

“ Well, it seems that she had fallen in love 
with some worthless bazaar loafer, and that that 
was much more at the bottom of the ‘ persecu- 
tion’ than anything to do with our teaching. 
She came here because she knew perfectly well 
that sooner or later her jealous and suspicious 
husband would cut her nose off. This morning 
she implored me to persuade you to baptise both 
her and the man and marry them according to 
Christian rites, and then allow them to live in the 
compound safe from the vengeance of their fam- 
ilies ! ” 

Mrs. Watson related the sordid little history 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


53 

with a dry comprehension. She was an excel- 
lent wife, a sound Christian, with a colossal sense 
of duty, and was a good, practical mission 
worker ; but her common sense and sharp powers 
of observation sometimes stood in the way of 
her sharing Mr. Watson’s optimistic views on the 
subject of conversion. 

“ O Julia ! how very distressing ! ” said the 
missionary, “ and I felt so confident that her pro- 
testations of belief were genuine! What have 
you done ? ” 

“ Of course I told her at once that you would 
never consent to such a thing. She was appar- 
ently under the impression that we would gladly 
shut our eyes to anything as long as we could add 
another so-called convert to our list of baptisms. 
If you had heard her language you would have 
been astonished! She collected her belongings, 
abusing us the whole time, and took her depar- 
ture, the little wretch ! and none too soon either. 
She had a distinctly bad influence in the com- 
pound, and I suspected her from the very first.” 

“You are generally right, my dear,” said Mr. 
Watson dejectedly. 

“ I am,” returned his wife. “ But here comes 
breakfast, and don’t worry about the girl any 
more. She was a naughty little thing, and only 
came to us because she thought it would be a 
convenient short cut to wickedness, and I dare 
say, if the truth were known, your old grain- 
merchant only bought the Testaments to use for 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


54 

wrapping up packets of spice. You are too trust- 
ing, and it’s lucky I am here to open your eyes 
sometimes ! ” 

They sat down to breakfast, and Mrs. Watson 
began to make plans for the journey home and 
the temporary breaking-up of the establishment, 
as she had done every morning since she had 
known that they were to go to England. 

“ We must store everything/’ she said, with 
satisfaction at the thought of what the packing- 
up signified. “ We have nothing that it will pay 
us to sell except just the rubbish, which can all 
go to old Jahans to be auctioned in the bazaar. 
What a useful person he is, to be sure, and his 
fat, stupid wife is most good-natured. I ought 
to go and see her, by-the-bye, for she sent me a 
large basket of guavas the other day, and I made 
them all into jelly to take home to the children. 
That poor little Vereker boy is growing up abso- 
lutely neglected and ignorant — they ought to 
send him to school or get him taught somehow.” 

“They don’t take him to church at all,” said 
Mr. Watson plaintively. 

“ No. You see, the rest of the family go to 
the cantonment church — I suppose more to look 
at the soldiers and to show off their extraor- 
dinary costumes than from any particularly reli- 
gious motive, and probably it never occurs to 
them that the child ought to go too. I wonder 
what the poor little man believes in — the Hindu 
gods, I expect! I had him over here the other 
day, and he is rather an intelligent boy — only 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


55 

quite undeveloped. Good gracious ! ” she added, 
screwing up her eyes and peering into the blazing 
sunlight outside — “here is his mother coming 
in at the gate dressed in apple green and trailing 
her skirt in the dust! What can she want?” 

The usually placid Mrs. Vereker was panting 
with agitation. She blinked her eyes and swal- 
lowed hard as she put a limp, damp hand into 
Mrs. Watson's. 

“ You are going home soon, are you not — to 
England — when the rains break?” she began 
abruptly. 

“We start in less than three months, God 
willing,” said Mr. Watson — “ we hope about the 
middle of June. What is wrong, Mrs. Vereker? 
I am afraid something has occurred to upset 
you.” 

Mrs. Vereker sank into a chair, and the Wat- 
sons politely left their breakfast to get cold while 
they gave their attention to her story. She 
never thought of begging them to continue their 
meal. 

“ Yes, it is true, something has happened, and 
we are all very much annoyed. My grand- 
mother is dead. She died two days ago, and her 
body was cremated by the priests at the burning- 
ground. You know who I mean — you have seen 
her at our house, Mrs. Watson — there is no use 
for me to pretend to you. She was a very rich 
old native woman, and we always counted on 
getting all her money when she died.” 

Mr. Watson shook his head in silent reproach 


56 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

at this worldly utterance; but his wife inquired 
with interest whether they had inherited the old 
lady’s fortune or not. 

“No! indeed!” continued Mrs. Vereker, half 
crying with angry mortification. “ She has left 
thousands and thousands of rupees to the Brah- 
mins to build a temple and endow it to her 
memory — wicked old heathen that she was!” — 
turning for sympathy on this point to the mis- 
sionary — “and nothing is left to us ” — she threw 
out her hands towards Mrs. Watson — “we are 
left out in the cold ! My father and mother they 
are raging! They say she was mad — she was 
always mad! But we can do nothing. The 
will is all straight and correct. Oh ! it is enough 
to make one die of anger! My friend Mr. Alex- 
ander Christian” — a half-caste apothecary, who 
had lately been showing signs of admiration for 
Mrs. Vereker — “he says it is quite criminal to 

raise hopes and then shat — ter ” Two oily 

tears trickled down her cheeks, for the widow 
feared that Bibi Jahans’ outrageous will had 
“shattered hopes” that had been flourishing in 
the heart of Mr. Christian regarding herself. 

“ And then there is Paul ! ” continued Mrs. 
Vereker, sobbing. “ His uncle and aunt would 
have taken him and brought him up; and I only 
refused them because the old woman was against 
the plan, and we thought she would leave all her 
rupees to the priests if we did not keep him out 
here. But I will send him to England, after 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


57 

all!” her voice rose fiercely — “just what she 
would not like ! I have some money in the bank, 
and I will borrow more. I will write to my sis- 
ter-in-law and ask if she and Sir Jardine will take 
Paul and bring him up as their own boy. I will 
tell her how I am poor, and so I can only pay for 
his passage and his outfit, and she can have his 
pension to spend as she likes on him. The India 
Office can arrange it all, and I will wash my 
hands! This is just what I have come to you 
about. Walking I came, in all the dust and sun 
the minute I thought of the plan. You are 
going home. May I tell Lady Jardine that you 
will take Paul if she consents to have him now? 
Everything will be paid, and I will give you some 
rupees for your trouble.” 

“ We could not think of that,” interposed Mr. 
Watson before his wife could answer, “but a 
donation to the mission instead would be ample 
repayment for any trouble we may take.” 

“We shall be going second-class and all the 
way round by sea,” said Mrs. Watson doubtfully, 
“ and the voyage is very trying during the rains. 
Don't you think it would be wiser to wait till the 
cold weather, and send him home with some one 
else? Are you not going yourself?” 

The poor lady had been looking forward to 
the rest and peace on the voyage, and could not 
bring herself to consent fervently to the charge of 
a spoilt little half-caste boy, though she liked the 
child well enough, and was interested in his 


58 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

future. Still she knew so well what children 
could be on board ship, the constant anxiety they 
caused, the heat of the bathrooms when they had 
to be washed, the early hours for their meals, 
their hatred of the cabin, and their reluctance 
ever to go to bed. 

But Mrs. Vereker was not to be put off; she 
explained carefully why she had no intention of 
accompanying Paul to England, giving several 
contradictory reasons, and sat immovable in her 
chair until Mrs. Watson had resignedly promised 
to take charge of the little one on the voyage, and 
to hand him over to Lady Jardine or her repre- 
sentative on arrival. 

“ Well, then, that is a relief,” said Una, getting 
out of her chair with an effort. “ I shall go home 
now and write to my sister-in-law, and in plenty 
of time I shall have her answer. I will bring it 
over to show you. I shall be lost without my 
boy, but it is so much better that he should go. 
My mother cries, and is very vexed at the 
thought, and says I should go too — but I am not 
strong enough for the climate,” she concluded, 
with an air of complacent martyrdom. 

She returned to the house, which for the rest 
of the day was a scene of tears and disputes, but 
in spite of all opposition she wrote her letter to 
Lady Jardine, reminding her of the previous cor- 
respondence concerning Paul, and asking if the 
home was still open to the boy without his 
mother ; “ for I cannot leave my parents — they 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 59 

are getting too old,” she wrote pathetically, much 
to the indignation of Mrs. Jahans. 

She explained vaguely, and without going into 
details, that the prospects of her family as re- 
gards money matters were considerably altered, 
that beyond the Government pension, which 
would be paid through the India Office until the 
boy was of age, he would have nothing — and that 
his only chance of receiving the education befit- 
ting a gentleman lay in the hands of his father’s 
people. 

April passed, and May arrived with its fierce 
heat, burning winds, and clouds of stinging white 
dust. 

In the centre room of the mission bungalow 
the long glass doors were tightly closed to keep 
out the wind and the heat, and Mrs. Watson sat 
in the midst of a group of native Christian girls 
patiently practising with them the “bhajan” that 
was to be sung in church the following Sunday. 
The quaint Hindustani words rose and fell in a 
nasal chant with monotonous regularity: 

O soul, thou forgettest thyself in the world! 

O soul forgetful! 

This world, O soul! thou must surely leave and go 
away 

Jesus, forget thou not! 

This body, O my soul! trust thou not in it! 

Dust, it will go to dust! 

Hear, O sinner! listen with heart and soul; 

Jesus is the root of the world! 


6o 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


Mrs. Watson’s voice led the melancholy minor 
refrain, but her thoughts wandered perpetually, 
in spite of all her efforts to keep a fixed attention 
on the semicircle of dark faces, and the shrill 
echoing voices. She could not prevent herself 
from dreaming of the subject that was now al- 
ways uppermost in her mind — the meeting with 
her children. It was four long years since they 
had clung to her, a sobbing, despairing little 
group, beseeching her not to leave them, while 
the youngest, still a baby, had laughed and ap- 
plauded, convinced that they were playing a new 
game for his special amusement. Now they 
would all look so changed, and the little one 
would not recognise his mother ; and then, when 
she had gained their confidence once more, and 
re-established herself in their hearts and lives, 
it would be her stern duty to leave them and 
return to India that she might carry the message 
of the Gospel to ignorant native women, sing 
“bhajans,” and teach needlework, and keep her 
husband from killing himself with overwork. 

In spite of her brave nature the tears began to 
cloud her eyes and a lump to gather in her throat, 
and in another moment she must have brought 
the practice to an abrupt conclusion when sud- 
denly one of the doors burst open, letting in a 
blast of hot air, and the singing ceased, as, with 
an excited rustle, the pupils all turned to stare 
at Mrs. Vereker standing on the threshold, with 
a letter in her hand. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


61 


“ She consents ! ” cried Una, “ she consents ! ” 
— not making the smallest apology for the inter- 
ruption. “ Oh ! Mrs. Watson/’ impatiently, “ do 
send all these people away, and see what Lady 
Jardine says — it is so important.” She advanced 
into the room as she spoke, and Mrs. Watson 
obediently dispersed her congregation, well know- 
ing her visitor’s powers of persistence. Then 
she gave Una a chair, took one herself, and pro- 
ceeded to examine the contents of the envelope 
that had been unceremoniously thrust into her 
hand. 

Lady Jardine wrote cordially, even gushingly: 
“ A warm welcome, my dear Una, will be given to 
my poor brother’s little boy,” she began; “he 
shall be treated with every care and kindness, and 
I am sure you will never have cause to regret 
your unselfish and heroic decision to send him to 
England. In my opinion you are wise and good 
in remaining behind to devote yourself to your 
dear parents ” (perhaps Una’s letters, written on 
thin blue-lined bazaar paper, ill spelt, and jerky 
in construction, had helped Lady Jardine to form 
this opinion), “but, of course, should you ever 
wish to take a run home and see your boy you will 
be very welcome at Farm Park. I am indeed 
distressed to hear that your family circumstances 
have been altered for the worse, but you may rest 
assured that no efforts will be spared to give 
Paul a sound education and every chance of an 
excellent start in life. More than this I cannot 


62 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


promise, for I have no personal private means, 
and the property being entailed, goes with the 
title to my husband’s nephew, a boy who is now 
fourteen, and who spends most of his holidays 
with us. I hope he and Paul will make friends 
in spite of the difference in their ages. I am 
thankful that you have found some kind people 
willing to take charge of Paul on the voyage, 
and I shall hope to hear from you, in answer to 
this, exactly when to expect the child, and by 
what ship. It is as well that he is coming home 
in the summer, when he will not feel the change 
of climate so keenly. Indian children are often 

so delicate ” The letter rambled on, but was 

eminently satisfactory, and was highly approved 
of by Mrs. Watson. 

“ The boy will be well treated — that is the let- 
ter of a woman with a kind heart,” she said, 
handing the document back to Mrs. Vereker. 
“Now there will be many details to settle and 
talk over, and you will have to write all particu- 
lars of his arrival to his aunt by this mail. I am 
very busy to-day and cannot spare you the time, 
but can you come and see me to-morrow ? ” 

“ To-morrow is Sunday,” said Una. 

“ Yes, and a very busy day for us always, but 
I am free at tea-time. Will you come to after- 
noon service at the Mission church and bring 
Paul, and then we can come back here to tea ? ” 

Una agreed to the plan. Under the circum- 
stances she could not offend Mrs. Watson by 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 63 

refusing to go to the Mission church; the after- 
noon service there could be tolerated for once, 
and was not long enough to make Paul fidgety 
and tiresome. 

“Yes, thanks, I will come, ,, she said with 
apparent indifference. She was not going to be- 
tray her gratification at being asked to tea by a 
missionary’s wife — she who was the widow of a 
civilian. 

So the next day the ayah was bidden to wake 
the child early from his mid-day sleep and dress 
him in a clean suit. 

“Thou art to go to the *girjah ,w (church), 
she informed him cheerfully, as, heavy with 
drowsiness, he objected to being disturbed, and 
let his feet double up limply when the woman 
tried to put his boots on — “ and there thou wilt 
learn the faith of thine own god, whom thou hast 
hitherto neglected. It is well to offend no gods 
of whatever faith, and it is for this reason that I 
do pooja to the tomb of the Mahomedan saint 
at the wayside when I go to make offerings at 
the Hindu temple, for gods be powerful all the 

world over ” She chattered on till the child 

was fully awake and his toilet completed, and a 
certain amount of interest had been aroused in 
his mind. 

He followed his mother’s broad back up the 
aisle between the rows of sleek native Christians, 
men on one side and women on the other, to the 
strains of the wheezy harmonium played by Mrs, 


64 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

Watson, and it was not until they had taken their 
seats in the pew that Mrs. Vereker discovered 
Paul’s sailor hat to be still on his head. She 
seized it and dragged it off, snapping the elastic, 
which stung the child under the chin, and an. 
unseemly disturbance was only nipped in the 
bud by the entrance of Mr. Watson, tall and 
gaunt, in his surplice, and the commencement of 
the service, which was conducted in Hindustani. 

Then Paul sat still and gazed in wonder and 
curiosity at the “ padre-sahib,” and tried to un- 
derstand what the reading was about, though he 
could make but little of the words sonorously 
pronounced by the Missionary. The brass lec- 
tern fascinated him — a large bird with a promi- 
nent beak and outstretched wings. Surely this 
would be Gurud, the good god whom the ayah 
had told him was Lord of the Birds. He had 
seen Gurud before, many times, down by the 
Fort at the little brass shop where the deities 
were sold by hundreds. He stared at the stained 
glass window which represented the visit of the 
Wise Men from the East, and his face bright- 
ened. Here were pilgrims dressed in much the 
same fashion as those he so often saw by the 
river side, and apparently they were doing pooja 
and making offerings to Krishna, the holy child, 
of whom the baba-jee and his great-grandmother 
had often spoken — only Paul knew him best in 
his character of a young man either playing the 
flute or carrying a ball of butter in his hand. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 65 

The mother and father of Krishna were also 
in the picture, and others whom he could not 
name at that distance, and he could also make 
out the head of a sacred cow; but he felt disap- 
pointed that his favourite “ Ganesh-jee ” was not 
to be seen anywhere. He loved the elephant-god 
with the round paunch and kindly disposition, 
and never omitted to murmur words of welcome 
and recognition to him whenever he came across 
the cheerful trunked visage. He felt sorry that 
his friend had been forgotten, and he determined 
to ask Mr. Watson to remember the good Ganesh, 
and give his image a place on the altar since he 
had not been included in the picture. 

Then Paul grew weary with the monotony of 
the Padre’s voice, the slow droning singing, and 
the strong smell of cocoanut oil in the atmos- 
phere, and fell asleep, waking with a cry of re- 
monstrance when the service was over and his 
mother pulled him to his feet. 

Mrs. Watson joined Mrs. Vereker outside the 
church door and they all repaired to the Mission 
house, where they settled down to home-made 
bread and butter and biscuits. Cape-gooseberry 
jam, and tea with fresh goat’s milk. 

“ Now, about Paul’s clothes,” suggested Mrs. 
Watson, when other matters concerning the ap- 
proaching journey had been discussed, “ he will 
want warmer things for the last ten days of the 
voyage, for though it ought not to be cold at this 
time of the year it will be a great change from 


66 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


the Indian Ocean and the Red Sea. And then it 
may be bad weather when we land, you can never 
be certain. Suppose you let us make some 
things for him in the Mission? Our girls work 
so well ! ” 

Una disdained the suggestion. 

“ Native work when he is going to England ! ” 
she exclaimed, “ Oh ! no — everything shall be 
English, and of the very best. I will send to 
Calcutta to the English shops for price-lists with 
pictures and patterns, and then I can choose. 
My mother has a cousin in one of those big 
places and he will see that I have all good and 
handsome.” 

“ But you will let him wear his old things go- 
ing down to Bombay and during the hot part of 
the voyage ?” suggested Mrs. Watson. 

“ Oh ! well, yes, he might do that, and then 
you can throw them away — but for England he 
must have English clothes.” 

“Of course, it is as you please,” said Mrs. 
Watson politely, but inwardly she shuddered at 
the prospect. 

“ Well, now I must go home and write all these 
letters,” said Mrs. Vereker at last, rising reluc- 
tantly, and calling to Paul, who had wandered 
across the compound to the servants’ quarters, 
where he was surrounded by an admiring crowd. 

“ I am afraid she will make a terrible spectacle 
of that unfortunate child,” said Mrs. Watson to 
her husband, when mother and son had taken 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 67 

their departure; and three weeks later, when she 
was invited to inspect Paul’s outfit, the sight filled 
her with even greater dismay than she had antici- 
pated. 

Mrs. Vereker had provided him with plush 
and velvet suits of various shades, with jockey 
caps to match, and wide frilled collars of em- 
broidery ; he had patent-leather elastic-sided shoes 
stitched with white, and ornamented with rows of 
little pearl buttons; a supply of ginger-coloured 
silk gloves had also been laid in, and the socks, 
which were to come half-way up his thin brown 
legs, were of many hues and patterns. Mrs. 
Watson was given particular instructions by Mrs. 
Jahans that his hair was to be well moistened with 
cocoanut oil, and rolled into a tunnel on the top 
of his head. 

“And this he must have when he gets to the 
landing-place,” continued his anxious grand- 
mother, producing a large umbrella with a glass 
ball for a handle, “ for it rains too much in that 
country. And Una would never have remem- 
bered an overcoat; but see what a beauty Mrs. 
Mactarn has bought for him ! ” She shook from 
its stiff folds a thick overcoat of a large plaid 
pattern, with big white bone buttons. “ This is 
the very thing to protect him against a climate 
that all say is so treacherous ! ” 

The yellow tin box that was to contain this 
extensive outfit was also proudly displayed; it 
was secured by a broad iron padlock, and had 


68 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

“Mr. Paul Vereker” painted on it in bold let- 
tering. 

“ Oh! ” groaned Mrs. Watson to herself as she 
walked home, “ what will his aunt think of him ? ” 

At last the moment of departure arrived. The 
mail train for Bombay left at nine o’clock in the 
evening, and Paul was escorted to the railway 
station by his mother, Mr. and Mrs. Jahans, his 
uncles, and auntie Mactarn, in the roomy familiar 
waggonette. A “ ticca-gharry ” followed con- 
taining the Passanah family and the De Souza 
cousins, who overflowed on to the box-seat and 
even on to the roof of the vehicle, which pre- 
sented the appearance of a moving heap of 
human beings; and they all flocked on to the 
platform, an excited, chattering crowd, bearing 
parting gifts of sweets, biscuits, and fruit, to 
sustain their young relative on the journey. 

Mrs. Vereker and her mother wept loudly and 
without restraint, Mr. Jahans was silent and im- 
portant, the two lads in their dust-coloured cotton 
suits and pith hats watched the proceedings with 
good-natured interest, and auntie Mactarn re- 
peatedly assured the child that she should be 
coming “ home ” one day to live, and then he 
must pay her a visit in Scotland. 

Sadly in the background lurked old Piru Lai, 
also the syce and the ayah, the latter mopping 
her wet face with her chudder, and, amidst all the 
noise and confusion, little Paul himself stood 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 69 

with a dazed look on his face, and his large eyes 
full of apprehension and bewilderment. He had 
risen to an unexpected height of importance; 
they were all imploring him not to forget them; 
he was loaded with presents and endearments; 
he was going to England to be a sahib — and yet 
he would rather have returned to his little iron 
bed under the comforting protection of the ayah, 
to wake up in the morning and find that all the 
change and excitement was only a vivid dream. 

He allowed himself to be kissed repeatedly, 
and it was not until he had been pushed into the 
carriage and felt the train moving that he real- 
ised his situation. He was leaving his mother 
and his home, and all the old lazy familiar life 
behind, and a sudden terror of the future seized 
him. He gave a wild cry, like that of a fright- 
ened animal, and sprang to the window, his eyes 
blurred with tears, his heart torn with the agony 
of separation. But Mrs. Watson held him 
firmly; the lights of the station swam before his 
face; he caught a fleeting glimpse of his grand- 
mother’s fat, dark countenance, swollen and 
shapeless with weeping, her red plush bonnet 
tilted to one side; the clamour of the natives on 
the platform sounded confusedly in his ears, and 
he threw himself into Mrs. Watson’s kind arms 
in an abandonment of sorrow and regret. 

The speed of the train quickened, the mis- 
sionary’s wife soothed and petted the sobbing 
child, and held out encouraging prospects for the 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


70 

voyage and the future, and as the metallic clang 
of the wheels presently told that they were cross- 
ing the great iron bridge that spanned the sacred 
river, he raised his tear-stained face and looked 
over the quiet darkness of the water. He caught 
the twinkle of lights in the Fort, from whose high 
red walls on the day of his great-grandmother’s 
cremation had he and the ayah watched with 
interest and regret the blue smoke curling up 
from the distant burning-ground indicating that 
the ashes of Bibi Jahans were soon to float away 
on the bosom of the sacred river. 

Down below the Fort there shone a row of 
tiny lamps, and Paul waved to them in a silent 
farewell, for he knew that they illumined the 
shrine of the monkey-god, and that close at hand 
the Baba-jee might be sitting watching the glare 
of the passing train. Oh! should he ever, ever 
come back? The Baba-jee had said that some 
day the gods might call him, and he would obey, 
but — England was a very long way off, and 
who could tell what would happen in the future ? 


CHAPTER V 


A hot, still, July afternoon in an old-fashioned 
English garden. The air full of the scent of 
sweet-pea, mignonette, and the drowsy hum of 
bees hovering over the sun-baked blossoms. A 
blaze of flowers massed together without border 
or design, "divided at intervals by strips of emer- 
ald turf; mounds of purple clematis, trails of 
crimson rambler and, above them, flitting white 
butterflies ; close-clipped yew hedges, and creeper- 
draped stone walls that decently obscured the 
necessary kitchen-garden. 

One side of the house, which was a square 
Georgian Rectory with rows of tall windows, 
looked on to a bagged terrace where musk pushed 
its way up between the slabs, and stone urns at 
either end overflowed with scarlet geranium and 
royal-blue lobelia. A few shallow steps, splashed 
with yellow lichen, led down to the lawn, where a 
fine cedar spread its moss-like branches wide and 
low, and shielded the guests of the Rector of 
Alconburt from the sun. 

The annual village flower-show was being held 
in the Rectory meadow, and as this was only 
divided from the front garden by a sunk fence, 
the usually calm, orderly precincts now wore an 
air of animation that almost amounted to revelry. 
71 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


72 

Vehicles of many descriptions were ploughing 
up the neat gravel drive, gaily-dressed figures 
strolled about the paths, and in the field were 
loosely pitched tents with flapping flags, a whirl- 
ing, squealing merry-go-round, a strident band, 
and a jumble of excited villagers in their Sunday 
clothes mingling with the “ nobility and gentry ” 
of the surrounding neighbourhood. Most of the 
latter had driven for miles along dusty lanes and 
the bare high road, and after conscientiously vis- 
iting the stuffy tents filled with drooping flowers 
and unnaturally gigantic vegetables, hastened to 
seek rest and refreshment in the cool of the 
Rectory garden. 

Under the tree on the lawn the parish doctor’s 
wife, who had a local reputation for sarcasm, was 
apologising for the dulness of the entertainment 
to the friends she had brought with her — a lady 
recently returned from India, who was paying a 
condescending visit to her former schoolfellow in 
“the real country ” ; and who had just observed 
carelessly that she supposed her companion 
“ knew everybody here.” 

“ Oh ! yes, everybody. And they all go on year 
after year just the same. Hardly any one seems 
to die, marry, or be born. Look at those two 
middle-aged women with grey hair — they are 
known as the 4 Tucker girls/ and the youngest 
Miss Frost, though she is at least forty-two, is 
always called ‘ Baby/ and what is worse, she 
behaves like one! This gathering is the great 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


73 

event of the year for Alconburt parish, and every 
one puts in an appearance because it includes the 
Rectory garden-party.” 

“ And why is that so attractive ? ” inquired the 
other, with supercilious good humour. 

“ The Rector is the attraction ! The Reverend 
Herbert Neale is popular in all quarters. Men 
like him because they say he is tolerant, sociable, 
and a sportsman in a modest way. Women adore 
him because he is so sympathetic and believes 
everything they tell him, and girls run after him 
because he is a handsome widower with one child 
— that little girl you saw when we arrived — who 
is just at age to need a good step-mother! ” 

“ Really ? ” commented the listener, with in- 
difference, “ and the Rector’s wife?” 

“ She died when the child was born — some- 
where about six years ago. She had money, and 
was well connected. The Rector has private 
means, and comes of a good old family too. 
That little girl will be worth marrying when she 
grows up.” 

** What if the Rector takes another wife? ” 

“ Well, he has shown no inclination that way 
yet. He lives here in solid comfort, and has an 
excellent cook as well as a rigidly respectable 
housekeeper, who acts also as head nurse to little 
Selma — such an ugly name, but it was her 
mother’s. Shall we go and have some fruit? 
The fruit is the only attraction to me at these en- 
tertainments — that is, if there is any left! The 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


74 

company generally settle themselves resolutely 
at the tables, and devour everything, like lo- 
custs.” 

They rose and walked towards the house. “ It’s 
my belief,” continued the doctor’s wife thought- 
fully, “ that as far as matrimony is concerned the 
Rector is waiting for dead men’s shoes ! ” 

“ What do you mean?” The apathetic lady 
was roused to interest at last. 

“ I mean that the Squire of the neighbourhood 
is old, disagreeable, and rich, and that his wife is 
a well-preserved woman twenty-two years his 
junior. Why she ever married such an old hor- 
ror I can’t understand, except that they say she 
had a disappointment in her youth and could 
never make up her mind to settle down until 
she found herself on the shelf, and then she was 
glad to take even Sir Robert Jardine, who, after 
all, though he was fifty-five at the time and a 
most obnoxious old person, had a title and several 
thousands a year. She’s the kind of woman who 
loves clergymen, and I have no doubt that when 
Sir Robert breaks his neck out hunting or suc- 
cumbs to gout in the stomach Mr. Neale will 
try his luck — but whether she would marry him 
or not remains to be seen.” 

“It depends on how much she would lose by 
making a second marriage, I should say. Are 
there no children?” 

“ No, none. Hush ! Here she comes, and Sir 
Robert too, and that must be the child who was 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


75 

coming to them from India — Lady Jardine’s 
nephew. What a little misery ! ” 

Crossing the lawn was a woman, middle-aged 
but graceful, and by her side, as though he had 
neither knees nor ankles, stumped an old gentle- 
man with cheeks and nose of heliotrope hue, and 
bristling white eyebrows. While his wife bowed 
and smiled and shook hands, he looked as if very 
little would cause him to acknowledge the polite 
greetings of friends and acquaintances by shaking 
his stick in their faces. 

Behind them lagged little Paul Vereker, who 
had been in England exactly a week ; he was now 
valeted by an experienced attendant, who was 
much more relentless with brush and sponge than 
had been his beloved and regretted ayah. His 
fine brown hair was properly cut and arranged, 
the plush suits were replaced by correct Etons, 
the jockey caps by the orthodox straw hat. He 
looked an interesting child, with his lithe, well- 
proportioned body and supple limbs, his straight 
features and luminous eyes; though the expres- 
sion on his thin, pointed face at present denoted 
alarm, mistrust, and bewilderment. 

The boy was miserable. His English was yet 
halting, though it had improved during the voy- 
age, and nobody at Farm Park (or apparently 
anywhere else in this puzzling country) could 
understand a word of Hindustani or knew any- 
thing about India. There was no dal and rice for 
his breakfast; he woke and wished to dress at five 


76 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

o’clock in the morning, but was not permitted to 
do so; he had his bath when he rose instead of 
in the middle of the day; he missed the ayah 
and his grandmother and Mrs. Watson; he was 
always doubtful whether the people about him 
were servants or sahibs, and he felt convinced he 
should never grasp the difference. His aunt 
perplexed him and he feared his unpleasant old 
uncle. And now here he was, brought to a big 
tomasha, and after a drive early in the afternoon 
(quite the wrong time to go out according to 
Paul’s ideas), and he felt desperately sleepy and 
stupid. 

The Rector came forward with cordial greet- 
ings. “ And this is the little foreigner, eh ? ” he 
said, looking at Paul with attention. “ How do 
you like the change from black to white, young 
man? Feel it cold? We must find Selma. 
I’ll be bound she’s in the tea-room foraging for 
cakes. Come, Lady Jardine, and have some tea 
— and you, too, Sir Robert.” 

“ What ? ” said the latter loudly ; but neither 
his wife nor the Rector paid any attention, for 
the Squire always said “ What ? ” and Lady 
Jardine declared that, if she wished particularly 
to speak to him, she usually began with an 
inarticulate mumble in order to hasten the in- 
evitable query. But Sir Robert had no desire 
for tea; he was anxious to inspect his own 
flowers and vegetables which had been sent to 
the show by his head-gardener, and the Rector 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


77 

escorted Lady Jardine to the house, talking of 
certain parish matters in which she was much 
interested, while Paul followed passively in their 
wake. 

The Rector was right. Selma was in the tea- 
room, but she was under the vigilant eye of 
Pritchard, the housekeeper, who, with her ash- 
coloured hair plastered to her head, was estab- 
lished behind the table serving out tea and 
coffee. Selma, in a starched white frock and 
blue ribbons, her fair curls falling over her 
shoulders, ran about among the guests, un- 
steadily handing plates of eatables, and enjoying 
the notice she attracted. She was in the act of 
presenting a dish of pink and white erections to 
an old lady who, smiling benignly on the child, 
had extended her hand to take one, when the 
plate tipped forward, and an avalanche of cakes 
descended to the floor, just as the Rector entered 
the room with Lady Jardine by his side. 

“Here is dear little Selma !” cried Lady Jar- 
dine, treading on the cakes. “ Give me a kiss, 
darling; and see this little boy — he has come all 
the way from India to live with me, and you must 
be very kind to him, for he has no brothers or 
sisters — just like you.” 

She turned to Paul and pushed him gently 
towards the little girl, and the two children shook 
hands awkwardly and unwillingly. They formed 
a curious contrast — the boy with his impassive 
Arab-like face, and eyes of an uncommon green- 


78 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

ish hue — and the girl with her fresh, tender 
colouring, innocent gaze, and glinting yellow 
hair. 

“ Well, ,, said Lady Jardine to the Rector, and 
moved towards the tea-table, “ what do you think 
of my nephew? ” 

“ He looks a nice little fellow. I wonder what 
young Bob Jardine will say to him? ” 

“Thank goodness Bob is not coming to us 
these holidays. I am sure he would have terrified 
this poor little wretch out of his seven senses. 
Mrs. Jardine means to take all her children off to 
Scotland this summer, so we shan’t see Bob till 
Christmas. Of course, as he is the heir we like 
him to spend a certain amount of time at Farm 
Park, but I never know whether I am glad or 
sorry when his visits are over. He’s so vigorous 
and noisy, and makes such a mess, though of 
course it’s only natural in a boy of fourteen.” 

“ That small boy looks quiet enough — he 
ought not to be any trouble.” 

“Yes, he seems resigned now, though he was 
rather difficult at first. I hope he will be happy, 
poor child. I think he feels very strange in such 
different surroundings. You never saw such an 
object as he looked when he arrived! I feel so 
thankful Bob was not at Farm Park to laugh at 
him. Some missionary people handed him over 
to me in London, extraordinary-looking beings, 
with luggage all bundles. They seem to have 
been very kind to him, for he cried dreadfully 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 79 

when he left them. He was so tiresome all that 
evening at the hotel, shrieking for limejuice-and- 
water, and anchovy toast ! — and things he 
couldn’t possibly have. But he has given all that 
up now.” 

“ Selma must make friends with him,” said 
the Rector, looking with kind eyes at the small 
wistful face; “ she is younger than he is, but she 
is a precocious little monkey, and I daresay they 
will get on very well — at any rate till Bob comes 
on the scene again ! ” he added with a smile, for 
Selma adored Bob Jardine, the Squire’s school- 
boy nephew and heir, and looked forward in- 
tensely to his visits to Farm Park. He gave her 
rides on his back, cut things out of paper for her, 
made her wooden boats and dolls, and was a hero 
to the little girl. 

While the Rector and Lady Jardine were talk- 
ing, Selma had been the first to recover from the 
mutual fit of shyness that had descended upon 
the children, and with a friendly gesture she held 
out her hand to Paul. 

“ Come,” she whispered, “ I will show you the 
black currants.” 

She glanced cautiously at Pritchard, safely at- 
tending to the refreshments, and at her father 
engrossed with Lady Jardine; then she dragged 
Paul through the hall and out across the drive to 
the gate in the high stone wall, on the other side 
of which lay the forbidden land of currants. 
They entered the kitchen garden, and Selma 


8o 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


plucked a tight handful of the fruit for the benefit 
of Paul, though she conscientiously abstained 
from them herself. 

44 They are not so nice as 4 leechies ’ or 
4 loquats,’ ” he said. 44 Nothing is so nice here,” 
he continued wearily ; 44 1 have nobody who can 
say Hindustani words, and I do not understand 
the 4 dastur’ (customs) of this England.” 

44 Eat plenty of currants,” suggested Selma 
consolingly. 44 Can you ride ? and can you play 
cricket? ” 

44 1 can’t play cricket, but I can ride.” And 
with a sharp mental pang he suddenly thought of 
the shaky chestnut pony, the ayah, the syce, and 
the long white roads shaded by enormous trees. 
He felt stifled in the trim kitchen-garden bounded 
by high walls, with nets over the fruit bushes, and 
little borders of clipped box round the vegetable 
beds. 

44 Bob can play cricket and ride too,” said 
Selma. 44 He is such a big boy — much bigger 
than you, and in the winter he goes out hunting, 
and once he brought me the brush — it was all 
bloody! I shall go out hunting with Bob when 
I am older.” 

Paul had heard a great deal about Bob Jardine, 
and he had already begun to feel sensitively alive 
to the elder boy’s superiority to himself. Bob 
was heir to Sir Robert, the servants had told him ; 
also he was said to be big, strong, and clever; 
everybody praised him, even this little girl seemed 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


81 


to look up to him as some one quite out of the 
common — and jealousy smouldered in Paul’s 
heart. 

“ Bob will teach you lots of things/’ went on 
Selma, patronisingly. 

“ I shan’t learn them,” replied Paul, “ I know 
plenty by myself. He cannot speak Hindustani 
and I can; he has never shot a leopard, and I 
have shot lots.” Paul’s imagination waxed and 
glowed. “ He cannot take up a cobra without 
being bitten, and I can. I have frightened thieves 
that came in the night, and I have seen ghosts — 
heaps of them — and I wasn’t afraid. Has Bob 
ever seen a ghost ?” 

“I will ask him,” said Selma, somewhat un- 
willingly impressed; “but you ought not to 
boast,” she added. 

“I shall if I like,” said Paul. 

“ Bob never does ! ” 

“ He has nothing to boast about, he has not 
done things like me.” He moved to one side and 
gave her a malignant glance from under his eye- 
lashes, a trick he had learned from the native 
servants. 

“ Oh ! you look like the snake in my Bible pic- 
ture-book ! ” cried the little girl, half fascinated, 
half alarmed. 

“Ah! you have no snakes here in England,” 
continued Paul contemptuously, “no poisonous 
ones. You have never seen a cobra or a karait. 
They are snakes which kill you in two minutes if 


82 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


they bite you, but I” with arrogance, “ am not 
afraid of them! ” 

He turned his attention to the currants again, 
and at that moment a large black poodle, which 
had been brought by one of the guests and had 
escaped from the stables, dashed into the garden 
searching for his mistress. In his wild hurry the 
dog cannoned against little Selma and knocked 
her backwards into a currant bush. Paul took to 
his heels, and ran from the garden across the 
drive and into the midst of the company on the 
lawn, his face blanched with terror and his eyes 
open wide. 

“A devil! a devil !” he cried in Hindustani; 
“ it is in the garden, a black devil — surely the 
‘ masan ’ from the burying-ground over the wall ” 
(pointing to the churchyard on the slope beyond 
the house); “it hath killed the little one. Ai! 
air 

Every one turned to look at the terrified child 
(the doctor’s wife and her friend among the spec- 
tators), and Lady Jardine, who had come from 
the house on to the lawn, hurried forward with 
outstretched hands. 

“ Paul, what is the matter ? 99 she asked sooth- 
ingly, trying to quiet the flow of unintelligible 
language that poured from his lips; but Paul 
could do nothing but point to the churchyard 
and gabble his explanation in a foreign tongue. 
The mystery was not cleared up until Selma ap- 
peared without her hat, her hands and face 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 83 

scratched, and her smart white frock stained with 
earth. She looked aggrieved and rueful, but was 
quite self-possessed. She pointed at Paul with a 
small pink finger. 

“ He was afraid of Mrs. Blake’s poodle ! ” she 
announced in shrill, derisive tones. “ He says 
he is not afraid of thieves or ghosts or snakes, 
but when Sambo came and tumbled me down he 
ran away ! He was afraid, and he never stopped 
to pick me up. Bob isn’t frightened of poodles, 
and he would have beaten Sambo for being so 
naughty.” 

“But perhaps he had never seen a poodle 
before,” said the Rector. He picked her up in 
his arms and stroked the bright hair from the 
flushed little face; at the same time he caught 
Lady Jardine’s eye and laughed. Then the two 
excited children were handed over to Pritchard 
for tea, and peace was outwardly restored be- 
tween them, though Selma indulged in a few 
scathing remarks over her cake and bread and 
butter, and a lengthy and exasperating account of 
Bob’s virtues. 

The result of the afternoon’s events was that 
Paul drove home with his uncle and aunt, silent 
and thoughtful, and consumed with a deadly 
hatred of Bob Jardine. He was still uncertain in 
his mind as to whether the poodle had not been 
some kind of English devil from the church- 
yard, and he yearned more passionately than 
ever for the warm languor of his Indian life, 


84 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

and the familiar liquid sound of the Hindustani 
tongue. 

The doctor’s wife and her friend walked home 
together across the fields when the rectory gar- 
den party was over. “ That little boy came from 
India, you said ? ” inquired the visitor. 

“ Yes, he is the son of Lady Jardine’s brother, 
who died out there.” 

“ Well, I shouldn’t be surprised to hear that 
her brother had married a native, or precious near 
it. I believe that child has black blood in his 
veins.” 

“ But he has lightish eyes and brown hair, and 
his skin isn’t dark. He doesn’t look like it.” 

“ Not to you, perhaps, and very likely not to 
many people who have been in India, but I hap- 
pen to know a great deal about half-castes, for 
my sins, and I have seen them with those odd 
green eyes. Also I noticed his nails and the 
palms of his hands when he came running on to 
the lawn. Of course I shouldn’t like to swear to 
it, but I should say the child was a Eurasian.” 

“ I wonder if the Jardines know it? ” said the 
other lady with lively interest. 

“ Probably not; and if they do they would not 
realise or understand what it means. The boy 
will be all right as long as he stays in England, 
but Heaven help him if he ever goes back to 
India!” 


CHAPTER VI 


Farm Park had begun its existence as a sub- 
stantial farm dwelling, and had continued it in 
the same capacity for over a hundred years, until 
Sir Robert Jardine's great-grandfather, on being 
created a baronet for military services in the 
East, had returned to England with a comfort- 
able fortune, and had purchased from a needy 
relative the house and surrounding land. To both 
he had added considerably, and his son after him 
had followed his example, so that the result in 
the time of the present possessor was an irregular, 
picturesque building, standing amidst pleasant 
grounds and well-timbered land — the whole form- 
ing a compact property which yielded a satisfac- 
tory return and capital shooting. The latter was 
strictly preserved, for the Jardines had always 
been a race of sportsmen. 

Little Paul Vereker’s new home was an envi- 
able one as far as comfort, care, and surround- 
ings were concerned, and, as time passed, his 
recollections of India became blurred and indis- 
tinct. The creeper-covered bungalow, his mother's 
indolent affection, his grandmother's shrill solici- 
tude, the old Bibi Jahans, the river, and the Baba- 
jee gradually became dream-like to his child 
memory. Mrs. Vereker wrote to him at long 
85 


86 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


intervals on very thin paper ruled with close blue 
lines. Sir Robert declared, with some reason, 
that “the woman seemed to write with the 
feather end of a quill pen,” and as Paul was liter- 
ally unable to decipher these epistles, and as Lady 
Jardine generally had to give up the attempt in 
despair, the child’s laborious answers grew rarer 
and the blotted letters from India became shorter, 
until a more than usually bewildering document 
arrived which apparently contained the news of 
Mrs. Vereker’s second marriage, and after this 
the communication between mother and son 
ceased altogether. But, vaguely, India was ever 
in Paul’s mind, and sometimes a rich scent, a 
glorious noon-day, or a brilliant moon would 
suddenly bring to him a rush of vivid recollec- 
tion ; then the child would cry despairingly, 
though, with truth, declaring when questioned 
that he could not explain his grief. On one oc- 
casion during the harvest-time he joined a gipsy 
encampment, attracted by one or two familiar 
words, the dark faces, and gay colours. But the 
chief of the caravan promptly took him back, 
and received substantial compensation for the 
trouble, while Paul was severely reproved for his 
low tastes, and was sent to bed sobbing and 
rebellious. 

The child’s health improved with the nourish- 
ing English food, regular hours and bracing 
climate, his nervous system grew stronger, and 
his gusts of rage and emotion less frequent. He 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 87 

quickly learned to read, and under the guidance 
of Lady Jardine’s maid — a superior and schol- 
arly person, who also was particular to teach him 
to say hymns and the catechism, being inclined to 
regard him as a foreigner and a heathen. He 
proved a satisfactory pupil, for he was always 
happy with a book, and took a deep interest in 
religious matters. 

He saw much of Selma Neale, for there were 
few children in the neighbourhood, and the two 
formed a tolerant friendship, as though accept- 
ing one another’s company in default of anything 
better. Selma unwillingly admired the boy’s 
mental gifts and despised him for his lack of 
physical power. He would tell her stories, which 
Bob had never done, stories about snakes and 
demons, and spirits of the trees and hills, adven- 
tures and escapes. He would sing funny little 
Hindustani songs with curious plaintive lilts, 
though this became less easy to him as the West- 
ern atmosphere cleared the glamour of India from 
his mind, and he forgot the meaning of the 
words. Fact and fiction were hopelessly blended 
in his brain, and he would tell impossible and 
weird anecdotes of his life and experiences which 
delighted the servants at Farm Park, and caused 
his uncle to roar with apoplectic laughter. 

Lady Jardine would listen absently to the 
child’s chatter, and remark that “ India must be 
a dreadful place to live in.” She saw that he was 
properly clothed and fed, that he was treated 


88 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


kindly, and that he went to bed early, and she 
always heard him say his prayers. But she never 
grew really fond of him, and the fact troubled 
her. 

One afternoon she confided her difficulty to the 
Rector. Mr. Neale had called to consult Lady 
Jardine about Christmas arrangements in the 
village, and he had brought Selma with him. She 
and Paul had gone to the playroom, and the 
Rector and his hostess, after deciding various 
questions concerning beef and blankets, settled 
themselves in low chairs on either side of the 
fragrant wood fire in the boudoir. Lady Jardine 
held up her delicate hands to the warmth, and 
the fingers shone pink and transparent in the 
light of the flames. The talk turned on Paul 
Vereker. 

“ I do all I can for the boy,” Lady Jardine 
said, “and I try to be fond of him for my poor 
brother’s sake, but I am sure I shall never under- 
stand him ; he is such a queer child. Robert says 
he is like a little hobgoblin.” 

“And Pritchard can’t endure him,” said the 
Rector ruefully. “Selma and I are always in 
disgrace when Paul has been to the Rectory. 
Matters reached a climax the last time he came 
over, when he asked why she didn’t shave off 
her moustache ! ” 

“What did she say? It’s a question I have 
always longed to ask Pritchard myself.” 

“ She said that what the Lord had given her 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 89 

He would not wish her to remove,” replied the 
Rector drily; and then they both laughed. 

“ Pritchard bullies you dreadfully, dear man, 
and you will never escape from her thraldom. I 
believe old retainers are a mistake. No matter 
how excellent they may be, the trail of the servant 
is over them all, and one generally ends by being 
afraid of them. ,, 

“ There is no denying that I am terrified of 
Pritchard, but what should I do without her? 
She takes such care of Selma, which is just what 
I want for the child now. Later on Selma will 
be a great deal with my sister, who will see to 
her education with that of her own girls, and I 
want her to have some years abroad when she is 
old enough. Tell me, what are you going to do 
with Paul ? ” 

“ Oh ! the boy will have to go into a profession 
that will take him out to India ; he is always talk- 
ing of going back when he grows up. We must 
think about sending him to school next year. ,, 

“ I am afraid,” said the Rector, stroking his 
chin, “ he is the kind of boy who will have a bad 
time at school. He is not much use at games ? ” 

“ Really I can’t say one way or the other ; the 
boy has had no chance of showing what he can 
do. Robert takes no notice of him except to 
laugh at his stories, and he hasn’t even got a pony 
for him yet. He never thinks of him in the same 
breath with Bob, and says the child comes from a 
land of niggers, and is only fit to be a woman’s 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


90 

pet. Bob will have to take him in hand.” She 
paused in thought. “ I think Bob ought to turn 
into a nice man. He is honest and open, and 
kind to animals, and not greedy or selfish. He 
will make a good soldier. His mother very 
wisely insists on his going into a profession in 
spite of his prospects, and you know he is mad 
about the army already. Soldiers are nice peo- 
ple,” she added, with a little sigh. 

In the silence that followed the Rector won- 
dered whether Lady Jardine had carried her 
thoughts back to the past with her last words. 
He glanced about the room, now darkening; the 
polished furniture reflected the firelight, the 
pieces of rare clina gleamed indistinct, the bold 
pattern on the glazed chintz covers of the chairs 
and couches was fading. The atmosphere was 
restful, and the scent of cut flowers stole out as 
the warmth increased. His eyes turned to the 
graceful figure of the woman leaning back in her 
chair, the effect of her years softened by the dim 
light which veiled the inevitable lines on her face. 
He only saw the delicate contour of features 
finely modelled, the contrast of the low white 
forehead and the dark hair parted and waving — 
the whole feminine effect of her personality. He 
thought with an undefined regret of how attrac- 
tive she must have been twenty years ago, and 
how charming she was still. The Rector knew 
that Lady Jardine was not clever, that she be- 
longed to a generation that had considered brains 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


9i 


to be unladylike; he laughed secretly, though 
kindly, at her dabblings in literature and art — 
(she wrote sentimental verses and stories very 
badly, and painted flowers and autumn leaves 
with a pretty touch) — but he was never more 
contented than when in her company. 

44 Sally Walker has taken old Job Hawkins to 
live with her/’ he said presently, returning to 
village matters. 

“ It sounds very improper,” said Lady Jardine, 
44 I thought Sally was an inconsolable widow ? ” 

44 So she is, poor soul, but from her point of 
view this is not a bad arrangement. Hawkins is 
past work and on the parish, and I was not quite 
happy about him in my own mind. When I 
called on Sally the other day I found him sitting 
in the late Walker’s chair in the chimney corner, 
and Sally’s explanation was short and to the 
point. 4 Stop alone I couldn’t,’ she said, 4 so I’ve 
been and took this old genelman.’ ” 

Lady Jardine was amused. 44 Well, at any rate 
old Hawkins will be warm and comfortable till 
he dies. Sally was always a careful creature, and 
I think she has substantial savings hidden away 
somewhere.” 

44 Yes, partly for her funeral. She always tells 
me that when she is an angel she should like to 
watch her body being carried to the grave as 
expensively as possible. She gave old Walker a 
fine funeral.” 

44 It is rather difficult to imagine Sally as an 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


92 

angel,” murmured Lady Jardine. “ How curious 
these village people are, they seem to have no 
respect for death — only for funerals ! I remem- 
ber so well when Walker was lying ill in that 
stuffy little bedroom I asked Sally whether it 
would be possible to carry him down those 
crooked stairs, and she said, before him, ‘La! 
Bless ’e! we shall put he out er winder/ She 
thought I meant after he was dead and in his 
coffin. But he seemed to take it as a matter of 
course.” 

“ She will be quite happy enough ‘ minding’ old 
Hawkins, though how she can stand his cough 
passes my comprehension. I can feel for her 
loneliness, I hate being alone myself.” 

The door opened and the butler brought in the 
tea-tray; almost immediately afterwards Sir Rob- 
ert appeared with a great rattling of the door- 
handle, and stumping of thick boots, carrying 
with him an odour of damp earth. He greeted 
the Rector noisily, stirred the fire till he nearly 
extinguished it, cast himself into an armchair, 
and demanded his tea in the slop-bowl. “ Never 
get a cup big enough,” he grumbled, and drank 
with grunts and uncouth noises mingled with 
abuse of the weather and the day’s bad shooting. 

“ What have you been doing ? ” he asked his 
wife, “ stuffing over the fire and writing rubbish, 
I suppose.” 

“ Mr. Neale and I have been discussing village 
arrangements for Christmas,” said Lady Jardine 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


93 

serenely; “we think that the people with big 
families should be given a much larger share than 
the others.” 

“ What ! ” — the Squire paused, and then con- 
tinued argumentatively — “why should they be 
encouraged to have large families, the less they 
can afford it the more children they have. It’s 
always the way ; ‘ a fool for luck, and a poor man 
for children' !” 

“ Talking of children,” said the Rector, with 
suppressed irritation, “ may I send for Selma and 
order my dog-cart at the same time, please? We 
must be going home, or Pritchard will scold me 
for keeping Selma out in the cold.” He finished 
his tea while the bell was rung and the orders 
given. Selma and Paul came down together. 

“ Well, little nigger boy,” cried the Squire 
jocosely, and touched Paul as he passed with the 
toe of his boot. “ What have you done to-day? ” 

“ Not been out,” replied the child shortly. 

“ Then you’re still in ! ” shouted Sir Robert, 
catching the boy by the shoulder and pulling him 
back; and he laughed till Paul gazed at him in 
wonder and alarm, expecting to see the old man 
choke and turn purple in the face. “ You can’t 
see a joke, you little fool,” gasped the Squire. 
“ Carrie, did you hear what I said ? ” 

“ Yes,” said Lady Jardine with tranquil un- 
truthfulness, “ and I laughed, but you did not 
hear me, you were making such a noise your- 
self.” 


94 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


“ You’re no cricketer of course, I forgot,” went 
on Sir Robert, keeping his hand on Paul’s collar, 
“ we must get Bob to teach you all these things. 
You won’t be allowed to stuff in doors all day 
when Bob comes marching home, my boy. He’ll 
soon stop all that ! ” 

Selma spread out her short skirt and began to 
dance lightly round the room. Bob will be 
here in four days ! ” she chanted. “ To-morrow, 
and the next day, and the next day, and then he 
will be here.” She stopped in front of the 
glowering Paul and made a curtsey. “ He is 
much bigger than you ! ” she added with malice. 

Paul looked away from the little figure with 
sullen resentment. He loathed the sound of Bob 
Jardiae’s name; and when, four days later, the 
young heir made a boisterous arrival for the 
Christmas holidays, the welcome he received 
from his uncle and aunt, the servants and the 
dogs, plunged Paul into the lowest depths of 
jealousy and depression. He lurked in the back- 
ground like an offended animal, and glowered in 
disgust at the newcomer’s freckled face and well- 
grown, muscular figure. Bob’s presence seemed 
to pervade the house before he had been in it 
half an hour; his voice, which sometimes 
squeaked in his head and then descended to his 
boots, could be heard from the attics to the cel- 
lars and caused Paul intense irritation, and what 
rankled with the younger boy more than any- 
thing else was the fact that Bob, after giving him 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


95 

a careless handshake in the hall, had paid no 
further attention to him. Young Jardine knew 
that a “ kid ” from India had come to live at 
Farm Park, but it was beneath his dignity as a 
public-school boy to make premature advances to 
one so much his junior. However, Bob was a 
large-minded, sensible person, and having duly 
allowed dinner and breakfast to pass without ad- 
dressing Paul, he condescended to invite the 
gloomy little boy to walk with him to the Rec- 
tory. 

Paul, at the time, was curled up on a large 
leather sofa in the hall near the fireplace, lonely 
and disconsolate : “ Master Bob ” was on every 
servant’s tongue, nobody had time to notice 
“Master Paul,” even the old fox terrier, who 
usually gave him the benefit of her company was 
now a fixture at the heels of his rival. The de- 
jected expression on the little face touched the 
bigger boy, whose heart invariably went out to 
any living thing that seemed to be in distress. 

He twirled his stick and said abruptly, “ Come 
out, don’t stew in here. It’s splendid out of 
doors. I’m taking a note to the Rectory. Like to 
come ? ” 

Paul’s first impulse was to refuse, but he was 
unwillingly flattered by the other’s notice. 

“ Is it cold ? ” he asked, to gain time. 

“ No, it’s boiling hot. Go and put your boots 
on and hurry up. I want to get back for 
luncheon.” 


9 6 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

Paul rose slowly and went for his hat and 
boots. Presently the pair started off down the 
long avenue of elms in the pale crisp sunshine 
with an ice-blue sky above their heads, and 
against it the branches of the trees showed black 
and bare. The keen windless air, and the sense 
of health and strength which emanated from his 
companion insensibly raised Paul’s spirits, and 
before they had reached the lodge and turned 
into the road he had begun to respond more freely 
to Bob’s questions. 

“What are you going to do when you grow 
up?” asked Bob, with patronage. This was a 
question from which he had suffered considerably 
himself when in the company of adults. 

“ I shall go to India,” replied Paul, without 
any hesitation. 

“Yes, but what profession will you have? 
Going to India isn’t a profession. I shall very 
likely go to India too. I shall try, because I want 
to shoot tigers and ibex and bears, but then I 
am going into the army, and I should go out 
there with my regiment.” 

Paul considered for a few moments. “ I 
shouldn’t mind becoming a missionary,” he said 
at last. 

“ Gosh ! ” exclaimed Bob. 

“ I should like to preach, I think. Sometimes 
I preach to Selma. I put on my night-shirt, or 
hers, it just depends whether we are at home or 
at the Rectory, and I stand in the clothes-basket 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


9 7 

for a pulpit. Selma thinks that I could easily 
convert the heathen.” 

“What does Selma know about it? She is 
only a kid. If you become a missionary you will 
have to starve yourself, and be a teetotaler, and 
never smoke, and everything you like doing you 
will have to think is wrong ! ” 

“ Anyway I want to go to India,” said Paul, 
at a loss for support to his argument. “ I have 
wanted to go back ever since I came here, but I 
have many years to wait. Aunt Carrie says I 
can't go back there till I’m grown up. In India 
it was always warm and like summer, and it was 
very big and full of nice smells.” 

He gazed before him at the cold pale sky like 
thin blue glass, at the bare brown fields closed in 
with stiff stone walls, at the straight road with 
heaps of stones at the sides, and he noticed 
dreamily the little ditches which Selma delighted 
to jump with mighty leaps when they were out 
for a walk. The chill unsympathy of the land- 
scape faded into a confused memory of colour 
and warmth, and of long lazy hours ; he heard the 
dry rattle of huge seed-pods in the hot wind, the 
monotonous, metallic note of the coppersmith 
bird — but only for a moment; in a flash the im- 
pression cleared away and left him puzzled, 
vaguely regretful, and silent. 

Bob eyed him with attention. He considered 
Paul “ a rum little beggar,” and wondered if he 
had “a tile loose,” and on the whole he was 


98 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

rather relieved when their arrival at the Rectory 
porch cut short the tete-a-tete . Selma came flying 
down the staircase to meet them. She threw 
herself at Bob Jardine and kissed him with en- 
thusiasm, a performance which he suffered with 
patient indulgence. Then she capered round 
him, her blue eyes agleam with excitement, her 
fair curls floating. 

“ Oh ! Bob, you are grown bigger than ever. 
And what do you think of Paul? He is thin and 
little, isn’t he ? And will you come to my Christ- 
mas tree, and will you teach me to skate? The 
duck pond by the stables will bear to-morrow. 
Come into the schoolroom and see my new toys.” 

She dragged her beloved Bob across the hall 
into the room where she wept over her lessons 
beneath Pritchard’s awful rule, and Paul was left 
standing alone. Selma had paid no attention to 
him at all ; he was nothing to her now that Bob 
had appeared. Paul had expected this, but he 
had not expected to mind so much. He turned 
and went with slow steps out of the thick oaken 
door, and passed along the side of the house till 
he came to the schoolroom window, through 
which he peeped unnoticed. A bright fire burned 
in the grate, and, the day being still and dry, the 
lower half of the sash was raised a few inches. 
He saw Selma perched on Bob’s knee with one 
arm wound tight round his neck, while he 
endeavoured to master a puzzle as well as her 
curls, which fell in front of him, would permit. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


99 

" There, you have done it ! ” cried his wor- 
shipper ; “ you are so clever, Bob darling, and I 
am so glad you have come back. When you are 
grown up you will marry me, won’t you ? ” 

“ Yes, if I marry any one at all,” said Bob 
generously. 

“ But first I shall have to go and live with Aunt 
Flora, who has a big house in London, and I shall 
learn a lot, and then father says I shall go to 
school in Paris.” 

“ And I shall go into the army and ever so far 
away with my regiment, and you will forget all 
about me and marry some duke, or perhaps,” he 
added with a laugh, “ you will marry Paul.” 

“Oh no! I would rather be an old maid like 
Pritchard. She says she could have married 
hundreds of times, and could now if she liked, 
only she prefers to be single. Paul is quite differ- 
ent from you. Bob, and sometimes he frightens 
me. He goes away and sits all by himself and 
won’t let any one speak to him, and he says he 
sees ghosts, and knows everything that is going 
to happen ! ” 

“ What rubbish ; don’t let him talk such rot to 
you, Selma. There are no such things as ghosts, 
and Paul is an ass.” 

“ I’m not an ass ! ” shouted Paul from the win- 
dow ; “ and I hate you both ! ” 

“ Hullo, sneak ! ” said Bob, looking up, and 
Selma leant her head back against his shoulder 
and echoed “ Sneak ! ” 


100 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


“ Get out ! ” continued Bob, “ you’ve no busi- 
ness listening at windows.” He put Selma down 
and walked towards the spy with a menacing 
air. Paul disappeared. Smarting with rage and 
jealousy he longed to do something to revenge 
himself, and to make the traitors within the 
schoolroom feel ashamed and unhappy. The 
Oriental instinct of self-destruction as a means of 
bringing sorrow and remorse upon the offender 
rose unconsciously in his mind, and, turning, he 
ran swiftly on through the garden to the back 
premises of the Rectory. He splashed through 
the mud that had been softened and trodden by 
the fowls, and reached the edge of the duck pond ; 
over this was spread a thin sheet of ice, and as he 
pushed forward it crackled beneath his feet. He 
meant with dogged purpose to go straight into 
the freezing water, and he pictured with exulta- 
tion the lifelong regret from which Bob and 
Selma would suffer after he had been taken out 
drowned and dead. He looked up at the grey 
walls of the stables and noticed that the hands of 
the clock over the archway pointed to the hour 
of one. 

“Bob will be late for lunch,” he chuckled, 
with satisfaction, “ and his holidays will be spoilt 
too.” 

He banged his feet down on the surface of the 
shining pond one after the other, and in he went 
up to his waist; the cackling of the ducks and 
chickens seemed to echo the word “ sneak ” in 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


IOI 


his ears, and he pressed on, splitting the ice with 
his hands and body, all sense driven from his 
mind by the wild anger and jealousy that pos- 
sessed him. Suddenly his feet shot upwards, and 
he struggled involuntarily to maintain his bal- 
ance, but sank helpless into the ice-cold water. He 
heard an excited barking and thought of the 
faithless old terrier, then came a shout and a 
splash which seemed far away, and a strong 
clutch fastened on his collar; he was dragged 
through the pond and thrown on to dry ground 
like a newly caught fish. He looked up at the 
face of Bob Jardine, and beyond stood Selma 
crying. That she was crying was at least a 
satisfaction. 

“ You little fool!” cried Bob, pulling him to 
his feet. “,What on earth were you doing? 
Lucky for you Selma insisted on running after 
you to make you come in and be friends, or you 
might have been drowned.” 

“Then,” said Paul feebly, but with spite, “it 
would have been your fault and Selma’s.” 

“Rot! Come along and get dried. You’ll 
have to wear Selma’s petticoats and stay here 
until your own clothes can be sent over. Run on 
to the house, Selma, and tell Pritchard we’re 
coming. My word! I pity you, Paul, when old 
Pritch gets hold of you.” 

Paul limped by Bob’s side, wet and shivering, 
but by no means repentant or grateful. 

“ I hate you ! ” he whimpered, and his teeth 


102 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


chattered. “ You try to make Selma nasty to me, 
and she liked me till you came. I wish I had 
drowned myself, and then you would have been 
hanged.” 

“ Rot ! ” repeated Bob, urging him on. 

“ It is not rot,” he screamed. “ I hope the 
devil will torment you — I hope ” But the in- 

furiated child never concluded his anathema, for 
he and Bob had reached the back door, where 
Paul was seized by Pritchard, who hurried him 
up the stairs with ignominy. 

When Lady Jardine went to Paul’s bedroom 
that night to hear him say his prayers, she found 
him lying wide awake, his eyes glowing like 
miniature lamps. He was not seriously the worse 
for his wetting, but was showing irritating signs 
of an approaching cold in his head. He refused 
to look at his aunt, or to say his prayers. 

“You are very naughty,” at last said Lady 
Jardine, whose nerves had just been set on edge 
by her irascible husband. “ You must not go to 
sleep without saying your prayers.” 

Paul snuffled and was dumbly exasperating. 
However, he finally signified his intention of say- 
ing his favourite hymn — “ Shall I be with the 
Angels ” — but not his prayers, and with that 
Lady Jardine was obliged to be content, for her 
patience was nearly exhausted. He wiggled 
about in the bed, and with many sniffs and snorts 
he began: 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


103 

“ ‘ Shall I ’ ’’—(sniff)— “ ‘ be with ’—Aunt 
Carrie, have you got a handkerchief?” 

Lady Jardine produced a wisp of gossamer 
which was speedily converted into a pulp by her 
nephew. 

“‘Shall I’”— (sniff). 

“ Paul, you have had my handkerchief,” said 
Lady Jardine irritably, “and you are not to sniff 
any more.” 

“‘Shall I ’ ” — (sniff) — ‘“be with the An- 
gels ’ ” — (sniff). 

“Certainly not , if you sniff like that!” cried 
the poor lady, and Paul flung himself, in a spasm 
of fury, beneath the bedclothes. Persuasions 
failed to call him forth, and Lady Jardine even- 
tually descended to the drawing-room, van- 
quished. 

“ Paul must go to school as soon as possible,” 
she announced, by way of relieving her feelings. 

“ Best place for him,” growled Sir Robert, 
without looking up from his paper. 

“ He’s rather a little beast,” said Bob critically, 
“ but I don’t think he can help it, and somehow I 
feel sorry for the wretched beggar.” 


CHAPTER VII 


During the following spring, just after Paul 
Vereker had been sent to a preparatory school, 
Sir Robert Jardine was stricken with paralysis. 
Absolute quiet being essential for the invalid, the 
boys were temporarily excluded from Farm Park 
for their holidays, and Bob Jardine remained 
with his mother and sister, while Paul was pro- 
vided for at the seaside. But the banishment 
continued necessary for much longer than had 
been anticipated; Farm Park was closed, Sir 
Robert was taken abroad for various cures, and 
by the time he returned and was so far recovered 
as to be undisturbed by the presence of the school- 
boys, Selma Neale had departed to the care of her 
aunt in London, and the trio met again as chil- 
dren but seldom. One or two holidays brought 
them together, but on these none of them looked 
back with any particular pleasure, for Bob had 
reached the stage when “ flappers ” possessed no 
attraction for him, and he treated Selma with 
lofty condescension ; Paul regarded girls as a blot 
on the face of creation ; and Selma despised boys, 
finding her greatest happiness in the diligent 
practising of classical music, and the reading of 
poetry and devotional literature. 

.With infinite labour and persistence Bob suc- 
104 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


105 

ceeded in passing into the army (very low down 
on the list), and his regiment was sent to Egypt 
very soon after he had joined. Paul was then at 
one of the less important public schools, and was 
destined for the Indian Civil Service; he was 
never popular, but he maintained an even stand- 
ard regarding his work with apparent ease, and in 
the matter of games his true eye, supple frame, 
and lithe limbs gained for him comparative pro- 
ficiency. Selma, meanwhile, was receiving the 
cream of educational advantages with her cousins 
in London, and was subsequently drafted to a 
superior school in Paris in accordance with her 
father’s programme for her mental development. 

The old Squire never regained his former 
strength or the use of the stricken limb, but he 
lingered on for twelve weary years, a helpless, re- 
sentful invalid, characteristically truculent to the 
end, and it was only his wife’s calm courage and 
natural patience that saved her from preceding 
him to the grave, a victim to sheer exhaustion of 
mind and body. 

When Sir Robert Jardine’s death took place 
the new baronet was in India, where he had but 
lately landed. He delighted in foreign service, 
and on the regiment’s return from Egypt he had, 
to his supreme satisfaction, obtained his company 
in the battalion under orders for Bengal, and at 
the time of his succession to the title he was 
engaged in assisting to quell a small rising on the 
frontier. This had made it impossible for him 


10 6 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

to obey Lady Jardine’s urgent entreaties for his 
immediate return, for leave, under the circum- 
stances, was out of the question, and nearly 
twelve months elapsed before he found himself 
free to start for England. 

On a chill April evening the widow sat in the 
drawing-room anxiously awaiting the arrival of 
the new Sir Robert. It was some years since she 
had seen him, for during his service Bob had 
spent but little of his leave in England, preferring 
sport in other countries to the more mild excite- 
ments of his native land. She listened attentively 
for the clang of the door-bell, and when she heard 
it she put down her needlework and rose to her 
feet. The next moment the room seemed to be 
full of Bob Jardine, a powerful young man, with 
a big nose, a square jaw, and a dark red mous- 
tache. 

“Good gracious, Bob! Dear boy, I should 
never have known you. Surely you have grown 
inches since you went away. There is no need to 
ask you how you are ! ” 

He laughed and kissed her. 

“I am afraid I have grown broader if not 
longer. But you haven’t changed very much, 
Aunt Carrie,” he kept his hands on her arms and 
looked into her face, “ some white hairs, a few 
very small wrinkles, and what are these — pince- 
nez? That’s new, and then, of course — this,” he 
added in a lower voice, touching her black 
dress. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


107 

“ Young people change so much more percep- 
tibly than old ones. I am delighted to see you 
such a fine-looking man, Bob, and all your dread- 
ful freckles have gone and your skin is nicely 
tanned instead. Your poor uncle would have 
been proud of you, though, of course, nothing 
would have induced him to say so ! " She smiled 
with forgiving remembrance. 

Bob Jardine walked to the fireplace and held 
his strong brown hands to the blaze. Then he 
began to push about the ornaments on the man- 
telpiece, and so reminded his aunt of his fidgety 
boyhood. 

“ There are so many things to ask you about 
that I don't know where to begin," he said. 

“ You ought to have come home sooner, Bob. 
You have no notion of all there is to be done. 
The estate has been going to rack and ruin ever 
since your poor uncle became such an invalid: 
he never would consent to have a proper agent, 
and of course he could do very little himself. I 
should think it would take at least two years of 
hard work to get things straight." 

He made an impatient movement. 

“ You must know, Aunt Carrie, there are times 
in a man's career, and particularly in a soldier's, 
when he couldn't ask for leave even to go to his 
mother's death-bed." 

“ Well, perhaps women don’t understand these 
things. At any rate, here you are now, and we 
have a vast amount of business to get through. 


108 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

There are my own plans to be settled too. We 
must have a long talk after dinner. You have 
only just time to dress; Trotter will show you 
which room you are to have — a large front one, 
not your old room, of course.” 

“ I don’t care where I sleep so long as there is 
a bed,” said Bob, and he went into the hall, oak- 
panelled and paved with stone, that had once 
been the farmhouse kitchen. Now it was sombre 
with carving, ancient armour, curious weapons, 
and a mellow dimness that no number of lights 
ever seemed to dispel. He looked up the broad 
shallow staircase; the polished carpetless surface 
glimmered mistily, and melted into the shadow of 
the first landing, where a suggestion of crimson 
drapery showed faintly. 

The young man paused for a moment, and with 
a vague feeling of regret he realised that he was 
in his own house. He disliked the idea of ties 
and responsibility; he would have been glad if his 
uncle could have lived on for an indefinite time ; 
he wished to follow the profession that he loved 
(for he was a keen and conscientious soldier), 
and to indulge to the full his passion for sport 
in foreign countries. Keenly as he had always 
appreciated the shooting and hunting at home, 
they had never stirred his blood in the same 
degree as did the sight of a wicked old boar with 
red eyes, and gleaming tusks, tempting the spear ; 
or the glimpse of a yellow skin striped with 
black skulking through the jungle; the climbs up 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


109 


and down the towering hills after mountain goat, 
or even the huge bags of duck and snipe in the 
cold weather evenings. These things were fresh 
in his memory and he hungered for them, and for 
a soldier’s life. He felt it hard that he should 
have to turn his attention for the rest of his days 
to prize cattle, crops, tenants’ grievances, and a 
circumscribed area for sport. He came down to 
dinner inclined to be depressed and silent, and 
resisted during the meal all his aunt’s attempts to 
discuss his future plans. Afterwards, when he 
felt fed and rested, and had smoked a good 
cheroot in the musty smoking-room, he joined 
her prepared to listen and respond, and even to 
initiate. 

“ What did you mean, Aunt Carrie, before 
dinner when you said something about your own 
plans ? Don’t you want to stay on here ? ” 

“ I believe I ought to go to the Dower 
House ” 

“ What rubbish! Of course you will stay out 
here — unless you prefer to go.” 

“You are very good,” murmured Lady Jar- 
dine, dubiously. “Of course if your mother had 
lived or your sister had not married, it would 
have been a different matter, you would have had 
your own people here.” She was conscious of an 
inward rebellion at having to thank, and be 
guided by an individual who seemingly but yes- 
terday had been only a schoolboy to be scolded 
for his untidiness, and laughed at for his non- 


no 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


sense. “Of course,” she added, “ you must now 
leave the army and settle down.” Her voice was 
involuntarily dictatorial, and he felt irritated. 

“ I don’t see that I must,” he answered, “ but I 
suppose I ought if things are in such a mess. It 
will be a wrench to leave the regiment and I shall 
want time to think about it. I have got six 
months’ leave, and I shan’t send in my papers till 
that is up.” 

“ Well, I suppose you will please yourself — 
men always do,” said Lady Jardine. She had no 
intuition of Bob’s state of mind. “ And as re- 
gards staying on here, it will be a relief to have 
plenty of time in which to do my packing! The 
thought of the accumulation of things I must 
have makes me feel quite ill. Of course you will 
marry sooner or later, Bob,” she added, and 
glanced at him anxiously, wondering if he had 
kept free of sentimental entanglements; “and 
then I shall move, but I will stay until the happy 
event comes about.” 

Bob stared at the fire. “ Yes, I suppose I shall 
marry some day.” There was a long pause be- 
fore he looked up at Lady Jardine. “ I may as 
well tell you, Aunt Carrie, that ever since I was a 
youngster I have had Selma Neale in my mind as 
a possible wife. I don’t think I should care to 
marry any one else. But I shouldn’t have given 
a thought to matrimony at all just yet if Uncle 
Robert had lived.” 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


hi 


“ Selma adored you as a child ; I don’t see why 
the feeling should not have lasted. She would be 
a very good wife for you.” 

“We shall see. There’s plenty of time. Where 
is she now ? ” 

“ She has come back to live at the Rectory 
with her father, and I have asked them both up to 
dinner to-morrow night. I haven’t seen much of 
her the last few years. Her aunt brought her out 
in London last season and presented her. She is 
very good looking, and her father is so proud of 
her. He, dear man, is just the same except that 
like us all he has grown a little older.” 

“I shall see a tremendous change in Selma,” 
said Bob, beginning to walk up and down the 
long room. “By Jove! it makes me feel quite 
nervous to think of meeting her again now she’s 
grown up. I’m not sure that I shouldn’t be half 
relieved to find there was a rival in the field and 
no chance for me ! ” 

“ I have heard nothing about him if there is a 
rival. I believe she refused two very excellent 
proposals in London and is perfectly free. We 
shall be a nice party to-morrow night — Paul will 
be here too. He is coming down from Oxford 
for the Easter vacation, and I expect him in time 
for dinner. You know he has passed into the 
Bengal Civil Service, and goes out to India in 
the autumn.” 

fi Glad to hear it. Let me see, he must be two- 


II 2 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


and-twenty or thereabouts, isn’t he? What a 
rum little beggar he was! I suppose he is 
clever? ” 

“ Yes, though perhaps talented would describe 
him better, but he has a curious contradictory 
nature, and I have never been able to understand 
him; he says he does not understand himself. 
Our party to-morrow night will be rather amus- 
ing one way and another; he and Selma Neale 
have never met of late years, and he will be as 
much a stranger to her as you are.” 

“Do you ever hear anything of his mother 
now ? ” 

“ She has never written a lijtie to either Paul or 
me since she married again, a year after the 
child came home! I couldn’t read the name of 
the second husband — her letters were always un- 
decipherable — and I really haven’t a notion 
whether she is alive or dead. I suppose Paul 
will discover when he goes out there, but he has 
never shown any interest in his relations, and I 
think he has practically forgotten all about them. 
It is India he has harped on perpetually — always 
India ! ” 

Bob sat down and played with his aunt’s em- 
broidery scissors. 

“ There are many worse places than India, you 
know. Of course the natives are beastly and so 
is the hot season, but the sport is grand, and it’s 
a fine country for soldiering.” He sighed and 
snapped the scissors absent-mindedly. His aunt 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


113 

took them away from him, and he resumed his 
tramp up and down the room. 

“ Did you meet many nice women out there? ” 
asked Lady Jardine. 

“ Oh ! I don’t care much for women. They 
generally either frighten or bore me.” 

“I wonder which Selma Neale will do?” 

“We shall see,” he said again, with a short 
laugh; “but if she wants as much attention as 
she did when she was a child I shall have my 
work cut out for me. How she used to bully the 
wretched Paul too ! ” He halted in front of the 
fire, and his thoughts turned to his own situation 
in life as compared with that of Paul Vereker. 
He felt envious of the latter’s freedom to please 
himself, and vaguely prejudiced against him. 

When the dinner time came the following even- 
ing he stood in the middle of the big drawing- 
room in a somewhat perturbed state of mind, 
awaiting the guests from the Rectory. Paul 
Vereker had arrived only half an hour previously, 
and time being limited he had gone straight to 
his room to change. 

Lady Jardine came through the doorway, 
stately, handsome, and composed, in trailing 
garments of dull black. 

“ They are late,” she said, giving a touch to a 
bowl of flowers, and pushing an easy chair into a 
better position. She finally regarded Bob with 
kindly criticism. “ How nice you look in dress 
clothes ! Dear me, how I do like having a man 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


114 

in the house again. Hark ! there they are. Now 
look your best and bravest, for I warn you 
that Selma Neale is no ‘ bread and butter miss.' ” 

Trotter, the butler, shouted at the door, there 
was a slight pause, a soft rustle of skirts, and 
Lady Jar dine advanced to meet the Rector and 
his daughter. 

“ So glad to see you.” She kissed the girl, 
and held out her left hand to Mr. Neale with a 
friendly gesture. Bob moved forward. “You 
two haven’t met since prehistoric days, have 
you?” concluded Lady Jardine. 

Bob murmured something indefinite as he 
shook hands, and he suddenly felt shy and awk- 
ward, but Miss Neale was quite at her ease. 

“ I am so glad you have come back,” she said. 
“I hope you are never going away again.” 

“ For some reasons I am sorry to say that I 
am probably going to stay here for ever,” he 
answered. 

She raised her eyebrows. 

“ I should have liked to stick to the army,” he 
added. “ I had practically only just begun my 
military career, you know.” 

Her blue eyes glanced quickly over his strong 
figure. 

“I can understand,” she said softly, “and 
you always wanted to be a soldier so badly. I 
think you must have been almost born one.” 

“ Yes, I love the army ! ” he laughed, as though 
in vague apology, a little surprised that she had 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


ii5 

so quickly divined his state of mind, and then 
the full perception of her grace and beauty 
thrilled him. He could hardly realise that this 
girl, with the exquisite finish of physical detail, 
and the well-bred assurance and ease of manner 
which gave her an air of maturity beyond her 
years, had once been the tyrannical, impulsive 
little Selma who had sat on his knee, ordered him 
about, and, more astonishing still to contemplate, 
had freely lavished her affection upon him. It 
seemed to the slow-thinking Robert little short 
of a miracle, and while he was silently turning 
over these wonders in his mind, the door opened 
to admit Paul Vereker. 

“ By Jove ! ” said Bob under his breath, “ how 
people do change ! ” His eyes met Selma’s when 
the greetings were over and the slight dark youth 
had turned to answer his aunt’s inquiries. 

“ Who would have recognised that fellow as 
the queer-tempered little beast we used to know ! ” 
Bob spoke low and with a laugh in his voice. 
“ He looks more like thirty than twenty-two, 
and he’s got the stolid expression of a graven 
image.” 

Selma made no reply. The sight of Paul 
Vereker’s clean-shaven, impassive face, with the 
large eyes, green, melancholy, inscrutable as ever, 
and the straight, handsome features, almost 
Greek in their severity of outline, seemed to 
have stricken her suddenly dumb. 

She went in to dinner on Bob’s arm. As they 


ii 6 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

sat down at the table she regarded her old friend 
attentively. He was certainly good to look 
upon; she admired his strength, his manliness, 
his bold honest face, and his evident simplicity 
of character pleased her. For some reason which 
she could not explain to herself, she felt reluctant 
to turn to her other neighbour, Paul Vereker; 
perhaps it was because she knew that he was 
looking at her. 

“ How did you like India ? ” she asked, speak- 
ing rapidly, as she drew off her gloves. She 
was anxious to start a conversation, and spoke 
somewhat at random. “ Where did you come 
from — what part ? ” 

“From Meerut — that’s where my regiment is 
stationed now. A ripping place in the cold 
weather. I wish I was going back there in the 
autumn.” 

“ Yes, but you can’t shirk your duty here — 
can you ? ” 

“No, of course not,” said Bob grudgingly, 
“but I am giving myself the satisfaction of not 
burning my boats for another six months.” 

“ Don’t you think a man has a right to do 
what he likes with his life?” asked Paul’s low 
voice at her side. 

She turned to him abruptly, and was more 
than ever conscious of the contrast between the 
two men. It was like leaving a breezy, healthy 
spring day for the stillness of a tropical summer. 

“ No,” said Selma, with decision, “ I certainly 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


ii 7 

don’t when it means deliberately turning his back 
on his duty.” 

“But may there not be duty on either side? 
Our friend Bob was evidently intended by nature 
for a soldier — he makes a good soldier, and he 
may not make a good squire. Good soldiers are 
very much wanted, and in all probability the 
estate could be managed well enough by an agent 
for the next few years. I think myself that a 
man should follow his own instincts!” 

His face hardened and assumed a dogged, 
obstinate expression. Lady Jardine, looking at 
him, repressed an exclamation; he suddenly re- 
minded her strongly of his father — her brother. 

“ Bravo ! Paul,” said Bob heartily, “ you have 
put it exactly. Yes, I shall make a jolly bad 
squire, I daresay, but something tells me I ought 
to stay here; perhaps it is my instinct, in which 
case, according to you, I am right to follow it; 
or perhaps it is a tradition of my childhood cling- 
ing to me still, that what we don’t want to do 
must be the right thing.” 

“ Well, it may be hard luck, but I’m sure you 
are right, whatever Mr. Vereker may say.” 
Selma felt she could not call him Paul, he seemed 
so much more remote from her than Bob Jar- 
dine. “ But to return to India. How did you 
get on with the natives? I think they must be 
the great drawback. Fancy always being sur- 
rounded with black faces! I should hate it.” 

“ Oh, I had as little to do with them as possi- 


n8 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

ble. Nasty, lying, dirty brutes, you can’t trust 
one of them.” 

“ So I have heard people say,” chimed in the 
Rector, “ and then others have told me they are 
faithful and trustworthy when you treat them 
properly, and get hold of the right sort; a great 
many people owed their lives to their servants 
during the mutiny.” 

“I can’t say I’ve come across many of the 
right sort, and perhaps I didn’t treat them prop- 
erly, but I haven’t had much experience yet. 
Anyway, I didn’t like ’em, and I couldn’t get my 
tongue round their infernal language. The only 
time I regretted that was when I was out shoot- 
ing, and wanted news of game.” 

“ So I suppose you licked them when they 
couldn’t understand you ? ” asked Paul, with a 
smile. 

Bob Jardine flushed. “Well, I’m afraid I 
have done, sometimes,” he admitted shame- 
facedly. “ But if I ever lost my temper and 
hammered a nigger too hard, I always gave him 
a baksheesh afterwards to make up for it. Money 
will compensate them for anything.” 

“ I think you have met my uncle and aunt out 
there — Colonel and Mrs. Everard ? ” said Selma. 
“ He has some civil appointment, I believe, al- 
though he is a soldier. When they were home 
on furlough last summer I saw a good deal of 
them in London, and they talked about you.” 

“ Oh, yes, I know them — rather ! ” replied Bob 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 119 

with animation. “ Ripping people, and great 
‘ shikaris/ They were awfully kind to me when 
I first got out and was seedy, and my knowing 
you and the Rector was a great link between us. 
We've had some capital shooting together. I 
saw Mrs. Everard just before I started for home, 
and she sent you all kinds of messages." 

“ She used to say that the native servants were 
treasures, and she was always lamenting her 
cook and butler and the native tailor, and particu- 
larly the washerman ; she said she missed him ter- 
ribly, and she was quite glad when the time came 
to go back. They want me to go out and stay 
with them next winter, but I don’t fancy I should 
care about it." 

“ No," agreed Bob ; “ I’m sure you would hate 
the life. The sport is the attraction for me, that 
and my regiment being out there." 

“ Do you remember much about India ? ’’ said 
Selma, looking at Paul. 

His long thin fingers fidgeted with the crumbs 
by the side of the plate. “ Nothing very defi- 
nite," he answered, his eyebrows drawn together 
as though he were perplexed. “I think I must 
have been a terribly backward child for my age 
when I came home, or else the sudden change of 
surroundings blotted a good deal out of my mind, 
for I only have the most confused and elusive 
memories about my life out there, and sometimes 
it worries me not being able to recollect things 
more distinctly. It is curious that I have the 


120 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


most vivid dreams of the country and always in 
Hindustani, but five minutes after I am awake I 
can’t remember anything about them or a wdrd 
more of the language than I have learnt at Ox- 
ford. I still suffer from my old craving for the 
East, in spite of its being a vague and shadowy 
land to me now, and I read ‘ India ’ for all I am 
worth.” 

“ Well, you will soon be going back, won’t 
you?” she said, with sympathy. 

“ Yes,” he said quietly, “ only ” He hesi- 

tated and looked full into Selma’s blue eyes. 

She experienced a quick sense of eniotion 
which startled her, and she turned hastily to Bob 
to counteract the sensation. She plunged into a 
conversation about dogs and horses ; but she was 
conscious all through it that the other man’s 
gaze was upon her, and she felt relieved when 
dinner came to an end and she passed with Lady 
Jardine into the large old-fashioned drawing- 
room with the white and gold wall paper, the 
rows of family portraits, and the striped chintz 
on the chairs and couches. 

“ Open the piano, Selma dear, please, and light 
the candles ; we must make Paul sing to us when 
he comes in — he has the voice of an angel!” 
Lady Jardine settled herself by the fire and took 
up a skein of wool. 

“ Really, Lady Jardine, Paul is so changed I 
feel as if I could remember nothing about him, 
and as if I had only met him this evening for 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 121 

the first time. It is curious that though he is 
so much younger than Bob he should give one 
the impression of being so much older.” 

“ He is an odd creature, I often think myself 
that he is not quite canny. He has such peculiar 
ideas about things.” 

“ He looks as if he could be very obstinate, 
* determined ’ I suppose he would call it.” 

“ His poor father was as pig-headed as he 
could be,” said Lady Jardine, with a sigh of 
reminiscence, “and Paul inherits it, I suppose. 
His love of art and music and his dreamy, poetic 
temperament he must get from his mother’s side, 
my brother never went in for anything of that 
kind.” 

Selma began trying over the accompaniments 
of some songs, evidently Paul’s property, that 
she had found in the music rack, until footsteps 
sounded on the stone floor of the hall. The 
Rector came in first and seated himself by his 
hostess; he removed the skein of wool from the 
back of a chair to his own hands. Bob Jardine 
walked straight to the fire and Paul Vereker 
crossed to the piano. 

“ Sing something,” he said persuasively. 

Selma shook her head. “ I have no voice un- 
fortunately, I can only play ” — her fingers rip- 
pled over the keys, and stole softly into “ The 
Moonlight Sonata.” Paul listened as though he 
were asleep. Bob talked to the Rector and Lady 
Jardine, and paid not the smallest attention to 


1122 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


the music. When Selma ceased playing he asked 
her to give them “ The Moonlight Sonata.” 

“You were learning it the last time I saw 
you,” he said, throwing a sentimental inflection 
into his voice. 

“ But,” she laughed, “ I have just played it ! 
How attentively you must have listened!” 

“By Jove!” he said, not at all disconcerted. 
“ Well, play it again then.” 

“ Indeed, I shall do nothing of the kind. Mr. 
Vereker, it's your turn to sing. It is seldom one 
hears a man sing now, even at a concert. Shall 
I play your accompaniment ? ” 

“ Yes, please.” He placed a song before her 
and she held up her hand and said “ hush ” to 
silence Bob’s chatter. She felt sure she had a 
treat before her. 

Paul’s voice was a rich, full baritone, with a 
curious plaintiveness in the notes. He sang 
“ The Love Song of Har Dyal,” and the pas- 
sionate despair in the words and music brought 
the tears to her eyes ; she heard it with the sensa- 
tion that at times was aroused in her by the 
scent of honeysuckle or jasmine; she was sensible 
of a vague elusive longing for something unat- 
tainable, as though regretful memories were stir- 
ring in her heart: 

“Alone upon the housetops, to the North 
I turn and watch the lightning in the sky, 

The glamour of thy footsteps in the North. 

Come back to me, Beloved, or I die. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


123 


“ Below my feet the still Bazaar is laid, 

Far, far, below the weary camels lie, 

The camels and the captives of thy raid. 

Come back to me, Beloved, or I die. 

“ My father’s wife is old and harsh with years, 

And drudge of all my father’s house am I, 

My bread is sorrow and my drink is tears. 

Come back to me, Beloved, or I die.” 

In the silence that followed she recovered her- 
self with an effort, and thanked Paul appropri- 
ately for his song, while Bob loudly objected to 
the melancholy tendency of the words, and at his 
own suggestion proceeded to sing “ John Peel ” 
and “ We’ll all go a-hunting to-day ” with much 
enjoyment. The party broke up later with 
laughter and talk, and the two young men prom- 
ised to walk over to the Rectory for tea the fol- 
lowing afternoon. 

“ Perhaps I will come, too,” said Lady Jar- 
dine, “ but in the pony carriage — I detest walk- 
ing.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


Selma Neale dressed with even more attention 
to detail than usual the following afternoon, and 
as she arranged her bright hair, that was hardly 
darker now than it had been ten years ago, she 
crooned to herself the air of “The Love Song 
of Har Dyal.” 

[When she was ready she descended the stairs 
to find Lady Jardine in the hall struggling out of 
her wraps. 

“ The east wind is odious ! ” she said, holding 
out the sleeve of her coat for Selma to pull, “ and 
I am perished !” 

The Rector emerged from his study. “ Come 
into the drawing-room, Lady Jardine — a nice fire 
there, and a lovely view over the valley from the 
windows. There’s nothing like an east wind for 
giving one a clear day.” 

“ And a sore throat,” added Lady Jardine as 
she followed him into the narrow room which she 
remembered in the days when the Rector’s late 
wife had been a bride. Now the carpet was 
worn and old, the damask upholstering was faded 
and dim, the wool-work on the footstools and the 
fire-screens had lost its brilliancy, and the once 
rose-coloured silk panels on the cottage piano 
were brittle with time. To Lady Jardine the 
124 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


125 


room was restful and home-like, and she loved 
it. Here she had confided many of her secret 
difficulties to the Rector’s sympathetic keeping; 
here she had spent many unruffled hours; and 
now she seated herself in an arm-chair with a 
contented sigh. Selma went out into the garden 
to look for violets at the foot of the garden wall 
until the young men should arrive, and the Rector 
and Lady Jar dine watched through the window 
the slender figure with its grace of movement. 

“ Selma reminds me so much of that portrait 
of your grandmother, Lady Elizabeth Neale, in 
the dining-room. Don’t you see the likeness? 
She has that beautifully finished appearance 
which I think is even more fascinating than 
actual beauty. Her ears and her hands are so 
perfect, and her little arched feet, and her head 
and neck are so well set on her shoulders. Then 
she has your dignified self-possession and agree- 
able manners! She is much too attractive to 
be buried in the country.” 

The Rector answered rather argumentatively, 
“ She will go and stay with her relations as often 
as she likes, and I suppose sooner or later she 
will marry.” 

“ Sooner or later Bob will propose to her,” 
said Lady Jardine placidly. 

Mr. Neale turned to her with a sharp “What? ” 

“ Oh ! don’t say that ! It reminds me so pain- 
fully of poor Robert! You heard perfectly well 
what I said.” 


126 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

“ But he has hardly seen her since she was a 
schoolgirl •” 

“All the same, Bob has got to marry now 
and settle down. He mustn’t neglect his tenants 
any longer, and he told me soon after he ar- 
rived, when we were discussing the subject, that 
he had always thought of Selma as a possible 
wife, and that he should not care to marry any 
one else. I daresay he will take his time about 
proposing — Bob is never in a hurry, but I thought 
I would warn you. It would be an excellent 
thing for them both if Selma would marry him.” 

“ Dear me, how helpless a widower feels with 
a grown-up daughter ! I am sure I hope with all 
my heart that she will accept him if he asks her. 
She is naturally reserved and so am I, and I feel 
that perhaps I have lost touch with her in send- 
ing her away from me to be educated — but I 
thought it was for the best.” He walked rest- 
lessly to the far window, then to the absurd little 
writing-table, which twenty years ago had been 
the height of elegance, and finally returned to 
Lady Jardine’s side. He was thinking deeply. 
“ I am very grateful to you for telling me,” he 
said presently. He rested one arm on the man- 
telpiece, and looked down with affection on the 
familiar, comely face, flushed pink with the 
windy drive and the warmth of the fire. 

“ What should I do without your friendship? ” 
he said softly. 

Lady Jardine smiled. “ I think we should miss 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


127 

each other now,” she answered with understand- 
ing. 

“ I want,” he said, speaking with earnest de- 
liberation, “ and I have wanted for a long time, 
to ask you if you will follow Sally Walker’s ex- 
ample, only with a slight difference! Do you 
remember? it was a long time ago.” 

“What on earth are you talking about, you 
foolish man? Of course I remember Sally’s un- 
orthodox conduct. What would the parish say 
if it could hear you! ” 

The Rector laughed. “But I said ‘with a 
slight difference,’ didn’t I?” Then his voice 
grew tenderly courteous, and his kind eyes were 
grave. “ Would you object very much to ‘ tak- 
ing this old gentleman,’ Lady Jar dine? Would 
you give him the proud honour of being your 
husband ? ” 

The tears welled up into her eyes, and gently 
she held out her hands to her dearest friend ; he 
clasped them in his, and the silent devotion of 
years found voice at last. 

Later they agreed that the matter should be 
kept a secret for the present, even from Selma. 

“We will first see how the two young people 
behave,” said Lady Jardine, going to the window, 
“ and then judiciously choose the right moment 
for springing the news on them. It might prove 
a trump card! There they all are, they must 
come in at once, or they will catch their deaths 
of cold standing on the lawn in that wind. 1 


128 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


shall have those boys laid up with influenza, and 
then I shall catch it ! ” She tapped on the win- 
dow-pane and gesticulated wildly, with the result 
that the trio outside walked towards the house; 
but Bob Jardine strode on in front whistling, and 
Paul loitered behind, purposely keeping Selma 
back. She saw Bob disappear into the hall 
through the porch, and heard the flat notes of his 
whistling die away. 

“I haven't had a word alone with you yet,” 
said Paul, and stopped in the pathway. “ With 
the egoism of man I am longing to talk to you 
about myself.” 

“Whatever you do I hope you won’t ask me 
for advice ! I don’t know what is good for my- 
self, much less for other people.” 

“ I won’t ask you for anything you don’t wish 
to give me,” he replied, and looked at her in- 
tently. Selma hurried forward. A sudden ner- 
vousness possessed her; the low seductive voice 
and handsome Arab-like face beguiled her against 
her will. She felt as though attracted by some 
forbidden luxury, by something pleasantly wrong 
and prohibited; she was almost afraid of him. 
She made an effort to brush away the mental 
spell that she felt was enveloping her judgment 
like a mist, and she threw a flippant remark over 
her shoulder in a high cheerful voice as she 
gained the hall door. He did not answer, but a 
dark red flush stole over his cheeks, and he was 
very silent for the rest of the afternoon. Bob, 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


129 


on the contrary, was more than usually sociable 
and hilarious, and insisted that Selma should 
take him upstairs to the old nursery that still 
retained its quaint wall-paper of little Dutch pic- 
tures in squares, with elaborate blue borders; he 
chaffed the rigid Pritchard till her stern features 
relaxed into an unwilling smile; he reminded 
Selma of many trivial happenings of their child- 
hood's days, and took from the old dolls'-house 
the little chairs he had made for her out of 
corks, the beds contrived from pin-boxes, and the 
cardboard tables with matches for legs. He 
looked through the contents of the book-shelf, 
taking down the battered volumes, and shouting 
with laughter over Lear's “ Book of Nonsense " ; 
while Selma stood by his side, carried back into 
the past by his reminiscences, and feeling almost 
as though she were once more a little girl delight- 
ing in the presence of the wonderful Bob. 

On a morning several weeks later Mr. Neale 
and his daughter sat at the breakfast-table in the 
Rectory dining-room, the windows open wide, 
and a perfume of newly-cut grass fanned in by 
the warm June breeze. From the frame above 
the mantelpiece Lady Elizabeth gazed at her de- 
scendants with eyes like Selma's, blue and deep 
and bordered with dark lashes, the mouth, like 
that of the girl, curved at the corners a little dis- 
dainfully. A bee was buzzing round the room, 
and the snipping of the gardener's shears sounded 


130 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

harsh and distinct as he clipped the edges of the 
turf. 

An hour ago Mr. Neale had received a note 
from Lady Jardine, sent over by hand (she was 
in the habit of writing her letters before she rose 
in the morning), issuing the fiat that Selma 
should be informed of their engagement at once. 

“ Bob told me last night that he had made 

up his mind to propose to Selma on the first 
opportunity,” she wrote; “ so I think the time has 
come for her to hear our news, as it might just 
turn the scale in Bob’s favour. I shall tell him 
myself this morning, and also Paul, who arrived 
last night for one of his flying visits from Ox- 
ford. . . .” 

The Rector had promptly acted on his lady’s 
suggestion. By the time breakfast was over 
Selma was no longer ignorant of her father’s 
future plans. She had kissed him and wished 
him joy, she had asked him kindly questions, 
dwelt on the genuine affection which existed be- 
tween Lady Jardine and herself ; all the time she 
had smothered her first involuntary feeling of 
rather resentful astonishment; and the Rector, 
who had been nervous and testy under the ordeal 
of breaking the news to his daughter, had become 
once more cheerfully at ease, and manifestly 
grateful to Selma for her considerate sympathy. 

“ I think she will be a stepmother that no one 
could grumble at,” he said with proud satisfac- 
tion. “We will ride over to Farm Park this 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


I 3 I 

afternoon for you to offer your congratula- 
tions. ,, 

“ Yes, certainly; and I can see those spaniel 
puppies afterwards. Bob is always bothering me 
to choose one of them.” 

“ Ha ! ” said the Rector, thinking of Lady Jar- 
dine’s letter in his pocket. Then he looked 
keenly at his daughter, and wondered if it would 
be wise to ask her the question that was on the 
tip of his tongue. 

“What is the matter?” she asked, amused at 
his scrutiny. 

“ Well, my dear, there is something I was 
thinking I should like to ask you; but perhaps 
you might consider me interfering — and — well, 
the fact is, you have seen a good deal of Bob 
Jardine since he came back.” 

Selma flushed rose-colour. “ I know what you 
mean,” she said with a trembling laugh, and went 
to the window, so that she stqod with her back to 
her father. 

“ Well? ” with pleasant interrogation, “ is there 
going to be nothing between you ? ” 

“ There is nothing between us now, at any 
rate.” 

“ Selma,” urged the Rector, anxiously, “ don’t 
shut me out of your confidence, child. I have 
thought once or twice lately that something is 
troubling you ” 

She paused: then turned impulsively towards 
her father. For the moment her pent-up reserve 


132 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

was swept aside by the kindness and affection in 
his voice. 

“ I am worried and puzzled, dad,” she said, 
“ but there will seem very little to tell if I try 
and put it into words — it is only that I know 
Bob is going to ask me to marry him sooner or 
later, it is no use pretending I can’t see it.” She 
gave a deprecating little laugh; the Rector was 
judiciously silent. She went on, re Bob is the 
man I ought to marry. I always meant my hus- 
band to be just like Bob; good, and big, and 
manly, and reminding one of cold spring water 
and fresh air, and everything wholesome and 

clean ” She broke off with a sob, biting 

her lips. 

“ But then, Selma, dear girl, why ? ” The 

Rector was perplexed and distressed, until a sud- 
den realisation came to him, “ You are thinking 
of some one else? Is it Paul Vereker? But he is 
only a boy, and surely you haven’t seen him more 
than once or twice since the end of the Easter 
vacation? ” 

She brushed her hand across her eyes. “ I 
can’t help it, father,” she said, in a low, hurried 
voice. “I can’t explain why he attracts me so 
strangely, and against my will — unless it is be- 
cause we are so unlike one another. If it were 
not for him I would marry Bob, perhaps I shall 
do so in spite of him, but he fascinates me when 
I am with him, and he haunts me when I am 
not •” 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 133 

The Rector looked alarmed. This was so un- 
like Selma. “ My dear child,” he soothed, “ why 
distress yourself like this? I think you are mak- 
ing a mountain out of a molehill. Of course we 
would all much rather you married Bob Jardine, 
but if you like the other man better why shouldn’t 
you please yourself? I wish he was older, and 
you had seen more of him, and that he had been 
in a profession that would keep him in England ; 
but his pay will be good, I understand, and of 
course your mother’s money comes to you when 
you marry. I have no doubt he is a good fellow 
— he is Lady Jardine’s nephew.” 

She laughed rather unnaturally, but she had 
now recovered her self-control. 

“We are going ahead rather too fast, I think,” 
she said, in her ordinary voice; “ I don’t know 
that Paul will ever ask me to marry him, or that 
he even wants to. He has only talked to me 
about himself and his difficulties more freely 
perhaps than he does to other people. Please 
don’t think any more of what I said. I don’t 
know why I was so silly: your news must have 
affected my brain.” 

She leant out of the window and called the 
gardener to her, and while she gave the man 
some unnecessary directions, the Rector sat 
thinking, and feeling far from satisfied. A vision 
rose in his memory of the meeting between two 
children in this room so many years ago; he 
seemed to see them again as he saw them on that 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


134 

hot summer’s afternoon — the sullen little boy 
with the wistful luminous eyes, and the fair little 
girl with her yellow hair falling about her shoul- 
ders, and an eager curiosity on her rose-pink face. 

Selma released the gardener and turned back 
into the room. “ Father,” she said, with a laugh 
in her eyes, “ who is to tell Pritchard about you 
and Lady Jardine?” 

The Rector rose from his seat in sudden haste. 

“I think you had better do it, my dear; you 
have so much more time”; and he left the room 
hurriedly, mentioning parish matters and urgent 
letters. 


CHAPTER IX 


That afternoon, when Selma was at Farm Park, 
Sir Robert Jardine asked her to marry him, and 
he selected the loose-box, where the spaniel pup- 
pies were quartered, as the scene of his proposal. 
The sun poured into the stable courtyard, and 
all was quiet with a warm, pungent stillness, 
broken sometimes by the rattle of a chain, or the 
stamp of a hoof. A low, monotonous hissing 
came through an open door from where a horse 
was being groomed, and as Selma and Bob passed 
under the archway the sound of their voices 
and footsteps echoed from the four walls. The 
foxhound puppy that was being “ walked ” at 
Farm Park followed them with loose, unsteady 
gait, and now and then he blundered heavily 
against their legs. 

Bob opened the door of one of the loose-boxes, 
and from the gloom within they were greeted 
timidly by a tender-eyed little mother-spaniel 
with anxious, over-driven manners, who rustled 
from a corner where her exacting family reposed 
in a heap of straw. The foxhound puppy pushed 
himself forward and immediately fled with a 
yelp as she turned on him with a fierce snarl. 
Bob lifted one fat brown-and-white bundle after 
another, until Selma had made her selection ac- 
i35 


136 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

cording to his advice, and then he stood gazing 
absently at the squirming little group. 

“ I suppose this marriage of your father’s with 
Aunt Carrie will make a lot of difference to you, 
Selma ? ” he said, with apparent irrelevance. 

“.Well, of course I shall have to take a back 
seat with a Mrs. Neale at the Rectory, but I shall 
make the very best of it.” 

“ I wonder ” — he stammered, “ I wonder ” 

A round-eyed stable boy entered with a bowl of 
bread and milk for the puppies. 

“ Put it down — put it down,” said Bob, crossly. 
He turned to light a cigarette, and by the time he 
had stamped on the match the intruder had dis- 
appeared. 

“ I wonder,” he began again, taking the ciga- 
rette from his mouth, “ what sort of fellow you 
will marry.” 

He watched the colour deepen in her cheeks 
and thought what an exquisite skin she had, so 
clear, fresh, and transparent. 

“ There are plenty of other more interesting 
things to wonder about,” she answered, and 
turned towards the door. 

“ Don’t go, Selma, wait a minute. I want to 
say something.” He kicked some straw into a 
heap at his feet. Selma regarded him with 
forced calmness ; she had divined what was com- 
ing. 

“ Do you think you could marry me? ” he 
blurted out diffidently. “I would make you a 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


137 

good husband, upon my soul I would !” He 
flung the cigarette out of the door, and then went 
on with nervous haste, “I simply can’t tell you 
how much I have come to care for you.” He 
caught her hand and kissed it. 

Selma did not speak. The spaniel came and 
sniffed round her habit-skirt, the little family 
began to waddle out of the straw, the sun 
streamed through the door in a dusty column like 
luminous smoke. She saw the frank, manly face 
with the tanned skin, and red-brown eyes, bent 
eagerly towards her. Bob’s wooing might be 
more persuasive than passionate, but she could 
not fail to realise that he was honestly in 
love. 

“ I should like to think about it, Bob,” she said 
at last, a little sadly. “I can’t decide now or 
here.” She looked into the yard, and noticed 
the round-eyed boy gaping at them from the 
harness-room door. “Will you wait and give 
me time to make up my mind ? ” 

“Of course,” said Bob considerately. “ You 
must take your own time. Only remember what 
a splendid business it would be for me if you 
said ‘ yes ’ ; and don’t say ‘ no ’ if you can possi- 
bly help it. At first I hated the idea of having 
to give up the army and settle down, but you 
have put all that out of my head, and I can imag- 
ine nothing better than life at Farm Park with 
you as my wife. That would make all the differ- 
ence, and I should be more than happy and con- 


138 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

tented. If you won’t marry me, Selma, I shall 
go back to India.” 

“Oh! nonsense!” Selma moved out of the 
door as she spoke, and Bob followed, shutting it 
after him. 

“ You see,” he urged as they crossed the yard, 
“ we are such old pals, aren’t we ? And then 
you know the place so well and everybody about 
here. Don’t you think you could be happy? ” 

“ I don’t want to decide in a hurry,” she said, 
with slight impatience. “ I told you I must have 
time to think about it.” 

“ I’m sorry,” he said, quickly penitent — “ I 
won’t bother; but tell me how long I shall have 
to wait. You can do a lot of thinking in a few 
hours. Will you tell me to-morrow?” 

“ I don’t know — perhaps.” Then she added 
wistfully: “Bob, I really wish I could say yes 
to you now, but there is something I must think 
out for myself before I can decide what is best.” 
She glanced at him, almost wishing that he would 
take her in his arms then and there, and refuse 
to listen to any objections or delays. “ I will 
write to you, and please don’t try to see me until 
you have got my letter.” 

He looked despondent, but answered readily, 
“ All right — of course I will do what you wish.” 

They had now left the stables behind them, 
and were walking through a shrubbery that led 
to the flower garden. Bob stepped nearer to Sel- 
ma’s side. “ Would you let me kiss you — just 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


139 

once — that I might have something to remember, 
whatever happens ?” 

It was the time in the afternoon when, in sum- 
mer, the air seems charged with a fragrant hush, 
when living things are only just about to bestir 
themselves lazily after the heat of the day. The 
little pathway was cool and secluded, and Selma 
yielded with hesitation. But she only allowed 
him to touch her cheek with his lips, and then 
instantly quickened her pace. 

“ Come, we must go in,” she said abruptly. 
“ Father will be ready to start.” 

“ I don't expect he will,” said Sir Robert, with 
a grin, but he hastened obediently. 

Neither of them noticed that Selma had 
dropped one of her gloves in the pathway, or 
were conscious that a moment later Paul Vere- 
ker had picked it up. 

That night when dinner was over and Selma 
had seen the Rector comfortably dozing over 
The Guardian in his study, she opened the long 
window that led from the drawing-room on to 
the terrace and went outside. She leaned against 
the stone parapet that was still warm with the 
day's heat, and deliberately set herself to make 
up her mind that she would marry Robert Jar- 
dine. She dwelt on his sincere and unmisfakable 
devotion, his manliness and simplicity, his kind 
and loyal heart, even on his wealth, position, and 
title. Nevertheless, the perfumed summer night, 
the sky like dark blue enamel scattered with 


140 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


crushed diamonds, the sweet sad note of a night- 
ingale in the distance, the tender scents that hung 
in the air, all cried softly to her of Paul — Paul, 
with his strange deep eyes and beautiful voice. 

She thought of the few quiet talks they had 
had together in the past weeks, when he had con- 
fided to her his vague unsatisfied longings, his 
futile resentment towards the difficulties of his 
own temperament; his strivings, never fulfilled, 
after an ideal, whether embodied m word, reli- 
gion, or art ; she knew that to no one else had he 
spoken so freely, and the remembrance delighted 
her. Yet analysed without sentiment what did 
it all mean ? That Paul Vereker was a type with 
which she was not familiar, and that in conse- 
quence he held an attraction for her which she 
suspected was not altogether wholesome. He 
was perhaps deficient in stability of character, 
most certainly his was a complex nature and diffi- 
cult to understand; he reminded her of moon- 
light, of ballrooms, of sensuous music, of all 
that appealed to the senses ; and with a clearness 
of perception perhaps rare in a girl of her age, 
the leaven of his fascination was apparent to her, 
and she condemned, the while she was acutely 
sensible of its allurement. 

She flung out her hands impatiently, resentful 
that an indefinite dreamy attraction should have 
power to tinge all her thoughts, influence her 
judgment, and render her reluctant to accept a 
man for her husband who would make her life 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


i4 r 


secure and happy, and for whom she had a 
genuine affection. She turned sharply and re- 
entered the house, and with resolve in every 
movement she sat down at the little writing- 
table, where in days past her mother had indited 
polite epistles with a pen that had resembled a 
pin. She wrote hurriedly, and then put the let- 
ter into an envelope. 

“ It shall go the first thing in the morning,” 
she said aloud, as she wrote the address, and 
there was a ring of triumph in her voice, for 
she had taken command of herself and had 
accepted Robert Jardine as her future husband. 

She turned down the lamps, and went to the 
window, meaning to fasten it, but instead she 
threw it open, and the soft air seemed to move to 
meet her. Gradually, reluctantly, almost guiltily, 
she passed out again, and then she ran down the 
terrace steps on to the cool thick turf, looking 
like a restless spirit in her trailing w T hite gown. 
She walked the entire length of the lawn, and 
back towards the carriage drive, pausing by the 
cedar-tree beneath which two basket-chairs, 
which had been forgotten, showed dimly from 
the darkness. 

Suddenly the click of the gate from the end of 
the drive startled her as it divided the quiet of the 
night. Her pulses throbbed into an immediate 
premonition, and her heart beat fast as even foot- 
steps drew near on the gravel and a figure be- 
came visible. 


142 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


“ Who is it ? ” she asked breathlessly, stepping 
forward; but she knew it was Paul Vereker be- 
fore the answer came, she had known it instinct- 
ively when the click of the gate had struck on her 
hearing. 

“ Such a night ! ” he said calmly, “ I could not 
rest within four walls, and neither could you, it 
seems. I had a good excuse for a stroll, I picked 
up your glove this afternoon, and I have brought 
it with me.” 

“ But it is a long walk for such a trifle, ,, said 
Selma, feeling dazed. “ I missed my glove, but 
I couldn't think where I dropped it.” 

“ I found it in the shrubbery. Will you let me 
rest for a little after this long walk? Are those 
seats I see under the tree? Let us sit down.” 
He spoke as if they both understood that the 
mention of the glove, the walk, the needed rest, 
was but a means of covering time till he should 
unfold the real purpose of this unceremonious 
visit. 

He led the way; they sat down on the chairs 
in the shelter of the silent cedar, and a thousand 
fragrances seemed to enwrap them from its 
branches. The bird was still singing in the dis- 
tance, and the plaintive, passionate song floated 
towards them. 

All at once she realised that Paul was kneeling 
by her side. She felt the approach of his face to 
hers, the vague warmth of his breath; she could 
hear his heart beating quickly with a passion that 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


143 

was not to be governed. The sense of a coming 
emotion held her spell-bound. 

“ Selma, I have come to you to-night to tell 
you that I love you ” 

“Don’t,” she said desperately, “don’t”; and 
she covered her face with her hands. His touch 
on her wrists was warm and strong as he drew 
them down. 

“My beloved,” he whispered. She tried to 
rise, but he held her fast. “ You must listen, you 
must hear me. I meant to wait, to make certain 
that you cared for me before I asked you to come 
with me so far away ; but to-day I saw you and 
Bob in the shrubbery, and after that I could not 
keep silent any longer, for the dread that I might 
lose you. I saw him kiss you; but, Selma, you 
only gave him your cheek — not your lips — you 
were cold and reluctant — you do not love him — I 
defy you to tell me that you do ! ” He hardly 
waited for her answer, but went on with low, 
tense utterance : “ I loved you from the moment 
I came into the room that evening, and saw you 
standing so sweet and slender with the light upon 
your hair. I sang only to you that night, dear 
love — did you feel it and know it? Ah! your 
hair, your lips, your sweet warm neck ” — he 
kissed each with frenzy as he spoke, and held her 
in his arms — “mine is more than love — it is 
idolatry! Selma, speak to me, tell me that you 
love me.” He paused, breathing through his 
teeth. 


144 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

She pushed him away from her and stood up. 
Then she took a few uncertain steps, and leant, 
trembling, against the trunk of the tree. 

“ Oh, Paul ! ” she sobbed in helpless surrender, 
“oh, Paul ! ” 


CHAPTER X 


Early September had brought cleai and settled 
weather to the lower ranges of the Himalayas; 
already the wooded slopes of the hill-sides were 
glowing with autumn colours, the ferns and 
mosses on the tree-trunks and branches had yel- 
lowed and were falling, and the air was keen 
and radiant with sparkling sunshine. But this 
probably meant a depressing outlook for the win- 
ter crops in the plains of Northern India, for 
the monsoon clouds, that rise from the sea and 
travel up-country till they strike the mountains, 
had been unusually light this season, and the 
rains were over alarmingly soon. 

Mrs. Everard, wife of Colonel Everard, R.E. 
Secretary to Government, sat in the verandah of 
her house in a popular and important hill-station ; 
and looking out over the smoky haze of the plains 
that stretched vast and endless in the misty dis- 
tance, she thought with compassion of those 
hapless individuals who were being steamed in 
the hot vapours that mark the end of the rainy 
season below. Mrs. Everard was an experienced 
Anglo-Indian lady, who had spent a great portion 
of her life in the East, and who possessed a large 
share of that ready sympathy and kind-hearted 
tolerance towards her fellow beings which is a 
145 


146 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

conspicuous feature of English communities in 
exile. She would carefully nurse a sick subaltern 
through typhoid or dysentery back to health and 
strength, mother a young bride who came help- 
less and ignorant to the country, gather the ayah- 
ridden children about her, and was ever ready 
to provide a home for animals whose owners 
were retiring, or going on furlough. She was a 
practical, downright memsahib who always had 
the best cook in the station, and whose house was 
famous for its solid comforts; but she knew the 
price of country produce to the lowest coin, and 
he was a misguided native who attempted to cheat 
her. She was quite indifferent to her personal 
appearance, and despised the minor affectations 
of life: she considered the bazaar tailor fully 
competent to manufacture suits for “ the old 
man,” as she called her husband, and dresses for 
herself; and the result, though adequate enough 
for the purposes of decency and protection from 
the weather, was hardly in the height of fash- 
ion. It had been remarked by a station wag 
that the Everards invariably looked “ as if he 
made her clothes and she made his.” 

But homely as their outward appearance may 
have been, no two kinder individuals existed in 
the whole of India, and the couple were popular 
with all sets; though, socially speaking, Colonel 
Everard’s present appointment was rather wasted 
on them. What they really enjoyed was a small 
station in the plains, where the shooting was good 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 147 

in the district, and where Mrs. Everard could 
have an extensive poultry-yard, and a herd of 
cows, and plenty of leisure for superintending 
her household; where also her medicine-chest 
and nursing experience were appreciated. In 
a headquarters hill-station space is limited; there 
are military doctors as well as a civil surgeon, an 
excellent hospital, and a staff of professional 
nurses: also, the social duties are heavy for the 
senior officers and their wives, and though the 
Everards were genuinely hospitable they were not 
society people, and they found the enforced 
gaiety somewhat irksome. 

At present Mrs. Everard was busily knitting 
thick woollen socks for the Colonel, seated in a 
capacious wicker chair, with a small table at her 
elbow, whereon lay her pith sun-hat of enormous 
dimensions, worn by her in all its primitive bald- 
ness, with neither pugaree nor muslin covering, 
and generally tied on with a piece of pink office 
tape. At her feet were grouped six dogs — a hill- 
mastiff with bushy tail and handsome neck ruff, 
an Afghan greyhound with lean, cunning face 
and rough, slate-coloured coat, three terriers of 
doubtful pedigree, and a brindled bull-dog. Out- 
side in the sun the horses were having their mid- 
day meal under her watchful eye, their buckets 
held steady by the squatting syces, and the sounds 
of their munching and stamping mingled with 
the raucous voices of coolies on the road below 
the house passing to and from the bazaar. Mrs. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


148 

Everard’s own mount was a Bhootiya pony with 
slit ears, shaggy fetlocks, and ewe neck. She 
rode him in her ordinary costume to pay her 
calls and get about the station, and she even went 
out to dinner on his back, for she strongly ob- 
jected to being carried in a seat slung from men’s 
shoulders, the ordinary mode of progression for 
a lady in the hills. 

A servant appeared round the corner of the 
house with two cards on a salver. 

“ Bother ! ” said Mrs. Everard. But when she 
had laid aside her knitting and read the name on 
the cards, her broad, blunt- featured face bright- 
ened. “ Young Jardine — title and all! ” she ex- 
claimed, and sent a hasty summons to the waiting 
visitor, who was presently ushered through the 
drawing-room and out into the verandah. 

“ Well, to think of your returning to the 
* shiny ’ so soon ! ” was Mrs. Everard’s greeting. 
“We thought you had probably gone for ever. 
My good youth, what is wrong ? — you look 
starved! Have you a very bad mess khansa- 
mah ?” 

Bob Jardine put down his hat and whip and 
seated himself wearily. “ I got back to the regi- 
ment in August, and when the rains stopped I 
went out for a couple of days’ shooting too soon. 
Result, a bad go of fever and a fortnight’s sick 
leave to the hills.” 

“Which, of course, you will spend with us. 
You want good plain food, and plenty of it, and 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


149 

early hours, which you won’t get at the club. 
We’ll send over for your things at once.” 

She gave the order with brisk promptitude, 
and Bob thanked her gratefully and without pro- 
test ; but he added that he hoped to be fit enough 
to get a few days out in the hills after chikor (the 
hill partridge) before his leave was over. 

“ So you shall, if you are up to it — the best 
thing for you ; and I only wish I could come too,” 
said Mrs. Everard. “ I hear the birds are very 
good this year; but there’s no chance of much 
shooting for us of any description for the next 
three months. We shall be marching too quickly 
on our cold-weather tour of inspection. We 
mean to have a camp for our own amusement at 
Christmas time and do some small-game shooting, 
and we shall expect you to join us.” 

“ Thanks, delighted ! ” said Bob, inertly. 

Mrs. Everard glanced at him with attention 
and speculated afresh, with interested curiosity, 
as to what had brought him back to India. She 
knew he had gone home with the prospect of hav- 
ing to retire from the army altogether, though 
he had made no secret of the fact that he did 
so with reluctance. But the young man was 
evidently not in a communicative mood, and 
Mrs. Everard never forced confidences, which 
was, perhaps, the reason why so many were en- 
trusted to her keeping. 

“ So my niece is going to marry a connection 
of yours,” she said, and assisted one of the ter- 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


I S° 

riers to scramble into her lap ; “ I suppose she has 
married him by now, we expect the news of the 
wedding next mail. Of course I have heard all 
particulars of the engagement from Herbert 
Neale, my brother-in-law, and about his own 
forthcoming marriage with your aunt, Lady Jar- 
dine. We shall be almost relations, Bob ! Her- 
bert has never given me any idea as to what this 
Vereker creature is like to look at, and Selma 
has never sent me the photograph she promised 
me. In my unasked opinion he is much too 
young to marry at all, and Herbert says every 
one tried to persuade them that it would be 
wiser to wait a couple of years, or at any rate 
till the young man had been out to India and 
gained some experience ; but of course it was no 
use. Who can convince two young people who 
are desperately in love? and Selma would please 
herself, whatever anybody said; she is like her 
poor mother, my little sister, in that way.” 

“ I don’t see why she should not please her- 
self,” said Bob, rather petulantly. It was tor- 
ture to him to have to discuss the marriage at all. 
“ Why should they wait when they can very well 
afford to marry at once? The fellow is young 
certainly, but he’s all right or she wouldn’t have 
taken him, and he looks a lot older than he is.” 

“ What a hopeless description ! I want to 
know if he is dark or fair — has he curly hair or 
straight — does his nose turn up or down — has he 
a fluffy moustache or none at all ? ” 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 151 

“I can't remember if his hair curls or not; 
anyway, I know he ought to keep it cut shorter 
than he does. His nose doesn't turn up, and he's 
clean-shaven and rather dark. He’s a fellow 
who can sing and play, and paint and draw, and 
spout poetry — all the sort of things I suppose 
women like. But you’ll probably see him for 
yourself soon. They are to start for India the 
middle of October." 

“ So I understand. Mr. Vereker has been ap- 
pointed to this Province, and Selma wrote to 
ask if the old man would use his influence with 
the Government to get them sent to Pragpur, 
where it seemed his father was stationed, and 
died. They thought it would be a link for them 
at the beginning. I believe it is all settled that 
they are to go there. I am sorry we can’t go 
down and meet them, but we shall be just starting 
on our tour about the time they will arrive. Mr. 
Goring will be their ‘boss'; he has lately gone 
to Pragpur as Collector. I have never met him 
or his wife, but I believe they are nice people, 
and I shall write and ask them to look after the 
young couple." 

Bob said nothing ; he apparently took but little 
interest in the plans of the bride and bridegroom. 

“And who was Mr. Vereker’s mother?" in- 
quired Mrs. Everard, resuming her knitting. 

“ I really don't know," replied Bob, repressing 
his irritation with an effort ; “ the mother sent the 
kid home to my aunt when he was about eight 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


152 

years old, and then she married again, and noth- 
ing more has been heard of her.” 

“ I hope to goodness his mother’s people 
weren’t half-castes,” said Mrs. Everard; “it 
sounds rather suspicious.” 

She was engaged in reclaiming a truant stitch 
when she spoke, and therefore failed to notice 
the expression of alarm and concern which her 
words had called into the face of her companion. 
Bob was completely prejudiced where “ the nig- 
ger ” was in question, and regarded the native 
as merely a necessary evil. The bare notion of 
Selma’s husband having dark blood in his veins 
caused him unspeakable disquietude. 

“ Why should they be half-castes ? There are 
plenty of pure European families living out here.” 
As he spoke he tried to recollect Paul’s colouring, 
which previously had never arrested his attention. 
He had hitherto given no thought to the young 
man’s parentage beyond being aware that his 
father had been Lady Jardine’s brother, who had 
married and died in India. The dreadful suspi- 
cion, now awakened for the first time, grew 
heavy in his mind and outweighed the heart- 
sickness and disappointment which he had never 
been able to shake off, and which had driven him 
back to the regiment surly and resigned. 

From the moment when he had read Selma’s 
letter telling him she could not be his wife be- 
cause she loved Paul Vereker, he had been 
dumbly miserable. The revelation had been a 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 153 

severe mental shock to him, for Bob, who was not 
far-seeing, had never for one moment dreamed 
of Paul as a possible rival. He had promptly 
decided to return to the life that suited him best, 
and all Lady Jardine’s entreaties and persuasions 
had been of no avail ; he had booked his passage 
and departed, relentless, to rejoin his regiment, 
trusting that sooner or later the feeling of de- 
spondent regret would grow lighter, and that the 
memory of Selma would become less bitter to 
him. 

He had since made heroic efforts to rise above 
his trouble and to defy Fate, but the malarial 
fever, brought on by his own imprudence, had 
lowered his spirits and weakened his will, and 
now the possibility suggested by Mrs. Everard’s 
words was almost more than he could stand in 
his present dejected condition. He proved any- 
thing but a lively visitor in the house, but his 
hostess strongly suspected that something in addi- 
tion to the effects of malaria was causing his 
depression, and she exerted all her powers to 
bring the young man into a more cheerful frame 
of mind and body. She so far succeeded that in 
a few days’ time Bob was sufficiently strong to be 
able to start on a mild shooting expedition in the 
hills with an enthusiastic companion selected for 
him by Mrs. Everard ; he betrayed an awakening 
interest in the arrangements and the prospects 
of sport, and once away in the keen crisp air, 
with a cloudless sky and a sun that lightened the 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


154 

heart with its glory, Bob began to feel alive 
again, and even glad to be living. 

The chikor behaved in a manner calculated to 
raise the spirits of any ardent sportsman, and the 
scrambles and climbs up and down the hill-side 
wooded with oak, pine, and rhododendron, the 
dense foliage flecked with vivid blossoms and 
brilliant creepers, resulted in highly satisfactory 
bags; and Mrs. Everard received daily consign- 
ments of plump birds with red legs and gaily 
patterned plumage, sent by runners in the early 
mornings. Bob loved the sport, and he was also 
unconsciously soothed and cheered by his sur- 
roundings ; the blue misty valleys where the little 
mountain deer barked in the still night time ; the 
terraces of cultivation climbing up to the clusters 
of huts cuddled against the hill-sides; the people 
who came out of these hamlets with stunted 
frames and Mongolian faces, but hardy, robust, 
and ready to chatter and laugh; the large black 
monkeys that leapt and crashed down the preci- 
pices; and the distant panorama of the eternal 
snow mountains white and glistening, that in the 
evening glowed crimson with the sunset, and 
then turned slowly into great grey ghosts ; while 
in the dawn when the opal flush of the sun’s 
approach crept over one group of snowy peaks 
and domes, the silver moonlight could be seen 
still lingering on another. 

Bob found it easier to think calmly of Selma 
here in the freedom of the endless glorious 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


155 


stretch of Himalayas; and by the time the last 
day of his leave had come, and he again passed 
through the station, he felt that his love for the 
girl had been to his good rather than to his hurt, 
and he was only thankful that if trouble and vex- 
ation was in store for her in this country, he 
would at least be near enough at hand to help 
her if she needed him. 


CHAPTER XI 


The mail train from Bombay roared along the 
dusty track through level yellow country with 
bare plains, cultivated areas, huddled villages, 
and clusters of mango-groves ; it paused on its 
way through great cantonments with racecourses, 
straight avenues of monster trees, lines of severe 
white buildings, and vast resounding railway sta- 
tions, where the European passengers bolted 
their meals in the ill-ventilated refreshment- 
rooms ; it halted at little wayside places that were 
steeped in sun and dust, where languid natives 
droned on the platforms, and all around waved 
tall bunches of scorched yellow grass with grey 
squirrels darting about the roots ; it clanged and 
clattered over an iron bridge with the smooth 
waters of a mighty river below, and drew up at 
three o’clock one afternoon in the station at 
Pragpur. 

Selma Vereker stepped out of the train on to 
the platform weary with the dust and noise, 
cramped with the long journey up-country, and 
inexpressibly thankful that her travels were over 
at last. She stood aside while her husband extri- 
cated their belongings from the compartment 
with the help of the servant they had engaged at 
Bombay ; she watched the crowding coolies 
156 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


157 


squabbling over each package as it appeared, and 
she looked with amused wonder at the two min- 
gled streams of yelling, struggling native passen- 
gers, one leaving the train, the other making for 
it, all raising a clamour that was deafening. She 
smiled as she remembered a description Bob had 
once given her of such a scene, with the added 
comment that Government ought to make it a 
criminal offence for a native to open his mouth 
in a railway station, and she certainly now agreed 
with him. Her attention was next engaged by 
a smart-looking Mahomedan dressed in dark blue 
and gold livery, who forced his way through the 
excited crowds and with a low salaam presented 
a note to her husband. Paul read it, then handed 
the letter to Selma with an expression of pleasure. 

“ From the Gorings,” he said. He and Selma 
had heard of his superior official from Mrs. Ever- 
ard. “ We are to go straight to them and stay 
until we have found a house. I am so glad. It 
will be ever so much nicer for you than an hotel, 
Pm sure.” 

Selma glanced at the note, and felt relieved to 
have the practical certainty of comfortable quar- 
ters at once after the trials of three weeks in 
cabins and railway carriages. They then fol- 
lowed what appeared to be a collection of skinny 
brown limbs surmounted by boxes and bags, and 
outside they found a neat open carriage and pair 
of bay horses sent by the Gorings, together with 
a bullock cart for the luggage. 


158 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

It was the time of year when the climate of the 
plains of India is at its best, and the vivid sun- 
shine, bracing air, flaming creepers, and splashes 
of bright colour on every side were all cheering 
and reviving in their effect. Selma glanced about 
her with keen interest, and Paul talked with an 
eager rapidity that was somewhat unlike him — 
indeed, he had been curiously elated and excited 
all the way up country, gazing as though en- 
tranced from the windows of the railway car- 
riage, declaring that he recognised the words of 
the language spoken around them when they 
stopped at the stations, and as they crossed the 
iron bridge over the river he had greeted the 
fort with a cry of remembrance and pleasure. 

“ It is all coming back to me/’ he said, as they 
drove along the level white road, “ only dimly 
and in little bits. When I was in the station I 
recollected a dark night and tears and good-byes. 
My mind has been seething with memories ever 
since we landed. I feel as if at any moment the 
whole of my forgotten childhood might come 
back to me in a flash. I seem to know all the 
sights and sounds so well. Even the very smells 
in the air are familiar. I am answering to the 
atmosphere with every bit of my nature. I am 
sure I shall understand and speak the language in 
no time — and what a pull that will be to me in 
my work!” He slipped his fingers into her 
hand under the soft loose glove. “ Having you 
with me just makes it all perfect!” he added, as 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


159 

though he feared that for the moment he had 
neglected her presence, and the look that passed 
between them would have ended in a kiss had they 
been alone. 

“Darling! are you tired ?” he asked with 
tenderness. “ You must go to bed and rest 
directly we arrive. You can’t sleep in a train 
as I do.” 

“ I feel as if I could sleep for the next six 
months if I had a comfortable bed! ” said Selma. 
But all the same she looked marvellously fresh 
and alert, for she had one of those bright com- 
plexions that no dust or travelling appears to 
soil, and the young husband noted adoringly the 
glint of the curls on her neck and temples, the 
delicate ears, like pale pink shells, and the well- 
bred poise of the little head. 

“ You always look clean and cool and deli- 
cious!” he exclaimed, and she laughed happily. 

Now they were entering a large compound 
through white gate posts, and the house, a long, 
blue building with a deep verandah, lines of pil- 
lars, and a square porch, was in sight. Mrs. 
Goring stood on the steps, a woman of about 
thirty-five, with a cold, pale face, handsome eyes, 
and a reserved manner. She had a low, culti- 
vated voice and was unmistakably a lady and a 
woman with experience of the world. Her 
greeting to the travellers was quiet and sincere, 
and she led them into an enormous drawing- 
room that was comfortably arranged with a mix- 


1 6 a THE STRONGER CLAIM 

ture of English furniture and Indian manufac- 
tures. 

“ I am not very fond of Indian things/’ she 
said, in answer to Selma’s involuntarily expressed 
admiration; “ but it looks out of place in these 
high, colour-washed rooms in the plains to have 
nothing but English belongings. All my rugs 
and curtains are Indian, and the carved screens 
and brass tables, but I hate the gaudy rubbish 
so many people seem to admire.” 

“ And which one can probably buy cheaper at 
the Army and Navy Stores than out here,” said 
Selma. 

“ Exactly! Now you would like some tea.” 
Mrs. Goring pressed a little hand-bell, explaining 
that she had always held out against the usual 
custom of shouting for the servants. 

Conventional conversation followed regarding 
the voyage, their fellow passengers, the journey 
from Bombay. Tea was brought in, and after- 
wards Mr. Goring appeared, a large man with a 
shy manner and a look of over-work in his deep- 
set eyes. He hastily swallowed a cup of tea and 
carried Paul off to his study for a smoke and a 
talk. 

“ Now,” began Mrs. Goring, as the two men 
left the room, “would you like to lie down and 
rest in your room till dinner time, or would you 
rather come into the garden?” 

“ Oh, the garden,” said Selma, who felt a dif- 
ferent being after the drive and her tea. So 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 161 

presently she and Mrs. Goring strolled over a 
wide grass lawn, where some scantily clothed 
natives were marking out tennis and badminton- 
courts; further on were masses of flowers, bril- 
liant shrubs, and groups of large trees, where 
parrots, jays, and mynas wrangled in the 
branches. 

“ How lovely it is ! ” Selma felt elated with 
the cloudless sunshine, the clearness of the at- 
mosphere, and the wealth of colour. “ Why are 
they making out such a lot of courts? It looks 
like a tennis club ! ” 

“ I am giving a garden-party to-morrow, and 
you will have your first glimpse of what is called 
Anglo-Indian society. We have our good points, 
and for you, at any rate, we shall possess the 
merit of novelty for some time.” She paused 
and threw a critical glance over the lawn. “ I 
wish the grass was better, but everything is so 
dried up, and water is becoming scarce — we had 
such bad rains this year. If we don’t have a 
deluge this cold weather it will mean terri- 
ble distress in the Province, and the officials 
will, many of them, literally be worked to 
death.” 

Selma, standing in the gay garden, with its 
atmosphere of peaceful leisure and prosperity, 
caught a momentary impression from her com- 
panion’s words of the stress and turmoil of the 
great country she had come to, of the vast re- 
sponsibility and endless drudgery that worked 


1 62 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


the machinery of administration underlying the 
tranquil surface of Indian official life. She said 
nothing, and Mrs. Goring regarded her thought- 
ful face with attention. “ I wonder,” continued 
the latter in her low even voice, “ how you will 
like being out here? For my part I am one of 
the few women who detest the country.” 

Selma opened her blue eyes, and Mrs. Goring 
laughed. 

44 I don’t mean to croak ! ” she said reassur- 
ingly. 44 There is no reason why you shouldn’t 
be very happy; it is a capital place for young 
people. But, you see, when I married and came 
out I was much older than you are now, and per- 
haps I am not of an adaptable nature ; I miss the 
pictures, music, theatres, lectures, and the wider 
interests. I hate having native servants, which 
is foolish, I know, but I can’t help it; and it 
bores me to be obliged to know everybody in 
the station, whether I want to or not. I’m afraid 
I have earned for myself the reputation of being 
4 stuck up,’ when it is simply that I am not inter- 
ested in local topics and the doings of other folk, 
and I get so heartily sick of for ever watching 
polo, playing badminton, and going to dinners 
and dances.” 

44 1 suppose one is entirely dependent on other 
people for one’s amusements in India,,” said 
Selma, 44 but I hope I shall like the country for 
my husband’s sake if not for my own. He was 
born in India — in this very station — and his 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 163 

father, who was a civilian, died and was buried 
here. Paul was quite a little boy when his aunt 
adopted him and he went home, but he has al- 
ways wanted to come back.” 

“ Well, fortunately it is the other way about 
with my husband ; he wants to get away as much 
as I do. We scarcely live in the present, we are 
always remembering what we did last time we 
were at home, and planning what we will do next 
time we take leave, and the moment his pension 
is due off we shall go for ever. I have no doubt 
it is entirely my own fault that I don’t appreciate 
the East, and I think there are luckily not many 
like me.” 

Selma hoped there were not for the sake of 
the many others whose lives and future, like her 
own, were linked with the great foster-country; 
but Mrs. Goring puzzled and interested her, and 
when she went to bed that night she lay awake in 
spite of her weariness, thinking over the conver- 
sation in the garden. Her white-washed room 
was large and lofty, and two beds occupied the 
middle of the floor, which was covered with 
cocoanut matting; her boxes were ranged along 
the wall and raised on bricks to protect them from 
the white ants, and tall glass doors opened on to 
the verandah and were hung with print curtains. 
Mrs. Goring’s ayah had proffered her services as 
maid, she could speak a little English, and was a 
small quiet woman, dressed in a white skirt and 
wrapper, a short black cloth jacket, silver bangles, 


164 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

and a gold stud in her nostril; but Selma found 
that the touch of the cool soft hands, and the 
silent creeping manners made her shudder, and 
she had dismissed the woman politely, saying she 
could manage for herself. 

She was dozing off to sleep when Paul came in 
on his way to the dressing-room beyond, and sat 
down on the edge of her bed. He began to talk, 
and as she opened her eyes sleepily she thought 
how handsome he looked. 

“I shall never go to sleep to-night,” he said. 
“ I feel as if I could never sleep again. I keep 
saying to myself ‘this is India! India!’ I re- 
member things I had quite forgotten. I used to 
ride along these broad white roads when I was a 
child, with the ayah and the syce walking by the 
pony, and I used to go down by the river to see 
an old woman who was some relation, I think, 
but I can’t get her quite clear in my mind yet. I 
am sure I could find my way about the station, 
and I believe I should know the house we lived in. 
Selma, have you thought that my mother may 
possibly be living here still? ,We never heard 
what became of her after her second marriage. 
Fancy not knowing what my own mother’s name 
is now ! I asked Mr. Goring if he had ever heard 
of a Mrs. Vereker who used to live here, but he 
has only been in the place a few months and 
knows nothing about the people who lived here 
formerly. We must find out somehow. Selma, 
are you listening? ” 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 165 

“ Yes,” smiling at him slowly, “ but I own I’m 
desperately sleepy.” 

He went on as though he had not heard her 
answer. “ This evening I went out with Mr. 
Goring for a turn before dinner, after he had 
been explaining to me about my work, and the 
smoke from the native fires in the compounds as 
it hung about in the air seemed to curl up into 
my brain — it was an old, old friend ! And then 
the jingle of the ekkas on the road, and the creak- 
ing of the cart-wheels, and when a jackal howled 
across the parade-ground I knew in a minute 
what it was. Why do I love India like this ? It 
is almost an obsession.” 

“ Well, dear, you see you were born out here, 
perhaps that is the reason,” murmured Selma, her 
eyelids drooping. 

He rose and walked to one of the long glass 
doors, pushing aside the light curtains, and flung 
it open. “ Look at the moonlight ; you could al- 
most see to read by it if it were not for the smoke 
in the air ; and hark ! there is some one playing a 
little stringed instrument. It reminds me of the 
air of * The Love-song of Har Dyal.’ No, dearest, 
I can’t come to bed just yet. I must go outside 
and look, and listen, and remember; I can’t rest. 
I think I am drank with India ! ” 

His voice roused his tired wife, and she lifted 
her head to see Paul standing with rapt gaze 
before the open door. Vaguely she knew that 
for him at the moment she was non-existent, that 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


ii 66 

his mind was far away from her; and she 
stretched her hands towards him with a little in- 
voluntary cry, but without heeding her he stepped 
through the door and closed it gently behind him. 
She raised herself on her elbow, and saw him 
standing motionless in the misty moonlight; his 
handsome head was thrown back, the nostrils 
dilated, the lean, finely cut face was flushed and 
quivering — he looked like a young Lucifer. 
Through the shut glass the sound of plaintive 
minor singing and the steady thrum of strings 
came faintly to her ears. Yes, there was some- 
thing about the strange monotonous music that 
recalled “ The Love-song of Har Dyal ” ; the 
words floated through her brain, “ Come back to 
me, beloved, or I die,” and she wished with an 
unaccountable disquietude that Paul would re- 
turn. Then she tried to realise that she was fool- 
ish and exacting. It was natural that he should 
like to go out for a few minutes if he felt restless, 
he was not overpowered with drowsiness as she 
was ; and so, gradually soothing her tired nerves 
with reasonable arguments, she yielded herself to 
a dreamless slumber. 


CHAPTER XII 


The following morning Mrs. Goring took Selma 
to inspect the two most favourable of the bun- 
galows that were then standing empty in the 
station. 

“ There is a third that might do,” she said, 
“ but I should not advise you to think of it, for 
it’s enormous and very expensive. Remember 
another thing — you must not spend more than 
you can help on your furniture. India is like 
existence — you are here to-day and gone to-mor- 
row ; and if you wish to remain in a place for any 
length of time, you will have to try and hoodwink 
Providence by pretending you anticipate a move 
at a moment's notice. A man I know always 
starts an elaborate garden when he wants to be 
transferred. He sows English bowers and vege- 
tables in large quantities and goes to real expense 
and trouble, and he assures me he has never found 
the plan to fail! I really think there must be 
some truth in the native theory of the jealousy of 
the gods.” 

“Oh, don’t!” said Selma half seriously. “I 
shall be afraid to acknowledge my own happi- 
ness ! ” 

“ Well, let us protect it as far as we are able 
167 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


1 68 

by buying second-hand furniture when we have 
examined the empty houses,” said Mrs. Goring 
with a laugh, as they climbed into her smart little 
bamboo cart. 

The pony took them down the drive and along 
the broad public road at a rapid pace, the syce 
standing up behind them and holding a large 
umbrella over their heads ; he yelled without con- 
sideration for their ear-drums when anything 
appeared to be blocking the way. After a time 
they turned into a bare compound which sur- 
rounded a square, low-thatched, white bungalow, 
and the syce was despatched to summon the 
chowkidar, or caretaker, from his lair in the tum- 
ble-down outhouses. The doors were opened, 
and the building proved to contain a long room, 
which had evidently been divided by a curtain, 
for the iron rod still remained. There were two 
other rooms on either side of this, and the whole 
place smelt of dust and bats. Selma's face fell. 

“ Could it ever be made comfortable ? ” she 
asked doubtfully. 

“ Oh, yes — in a simple way, certainly, though 
a good deal would depend on your own taste and 
ingenuity. The last people who lived here were 
a subaltern and his wife and child, in the Native 
Infantry. Their pay was about half what your 
husband's will be, and they had nothing of their 
own, yet the house was always neat and pretty 
and home-like, though I often wondered if the 
poor dears ever had enough to eat. The tenants 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


169 

before them were a colonel and his wife, quite 
comfortably off, but you never saw such a pig- 
stye as they made of the place ! ” 

“ It looks to me as rather hopeless ; but I am 
not easily discouraged. This would be the draw- 
ing-room, and the dining-room would be the 
other side of the curtain. Our bedroom and 
dressing-room would be there, and Paul's study 
and a spare room opposite. Then I suppose the 
pantry ” 

Selma became hopeful and animated over her 
plans, and was already picturing the little home 
where she and Paul were to be so happy. How- 
ever, Mrs. Goring carried her on to see the other 
empty house, which was certainly more roomy, 
but in a much worse state of repair. The com- 
pound was in direct contrast to the one they had 
just left, being an almost impenetrable jungle; 
the walls within and without had deep green 
dados of mildew-stain, the ceiling clothes were 
discoloured and dilapidated; the floor was crum- 
bling; white ants had tunnels everywhere, and 
in the corners hairy spiders moved sullenly. 

“ This is dreadful! I prefer the other house,” 
said Selma, holding up her skirts and standing on 
tiptoe. 

“ Yes, and here you would have the additional 
disadvantage of a Eurasian landlord.” Mrs. 
Goring picked her way back into the verandah. 
“ They are rather worse than natives, as they so 
seldom have any money to spend on repairs, even 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


170 

if they were willing to do them; and they will 
never take anything in time, and are hopelessly 
dilatory, lazy, and difficult.” 

“ Why? You would think a mixture of Eng- 
lish blood would give them some backbone.” 

“ It doesn’t appear to. The half-caste gener- 
ally has all the drawbacks of both nations, and 
the virtues of neither, though I must say I don’t 
think they are often vicious; they don’t seem to 
have enough character for downright wickedness, 
but they are shifty and unreliable, and have no 
enterprise. Some people say they are not nearly 
so bad when the English blood comes from the 
father’s side, but I don’t know how far that is 
true, and I have no desire to find out. I dislike 
them all too much. I really prefer a native to a 
Eurasian, which for me is saying a good deal.” 

“ Well, then, this house is altogether hopeless. 
It will have to be the other one.” 

“ I don’t think you will do better. Now let us 
go to old Jahans’ shop in the bazaar, and see what 
he has got in the way of second-hand wardrobes 
and tables. You can get very good wicker chairs 
and couches and have them painted white.” 

“ Who is old Jahans? A native? ” asked Sel- 
ma as they drove off again. 

“ No, a typical half-caste, but quite an institu- 
tion here. He buys everybody’s old things when 
they go away, and sells the best of them to the 
newcomers, and auctions the rubbish to the na- 
tives. I found him very useful when I came 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


I7i 

here, and I really picked up some quite nice things 
from his lumber-heaps — things that must have 
been there for years and years, bits of nice china 
and old brass. He hardly knew he had them, and 
was quite ignorant of their value. The old man 
is getting on in years now and does very little 
himself. I believe his two sons carry on most of 
the business, such as it is. Look ! this is the way 
these people do things. I can’t imagine how they 
ever get on at all — no attempt at any order, or 
method, or arrangement.” 

They had driven into an enclosure bounded by 
mud walls, and overgrown with weeds, at one 
end of which stood a thatched building with the 
interior apparently stacked with furniture. Out- 
side were piles of broken tables and legless chairs, 
wheels of carriages, mountains of old iron, empty 
kerosene oil-tins and shattered packing-cases. In 
one corner of the compound a man in a baggy 
brown suit and large sun hat was standing on a 
bench autioneering some tins of damaged stores 
to a group of natives; in the verandah of the 
shop another individual sat at a rickety table 
writing on coarse yellow paper ; wandering about 
from one to the other was an old man with bent 
back and tottering footsteps, supporting himself 
with a stout bamboo stick. 

Mr. Jahans had borne his years badly, and only 
his whiskers appeared to have grasped the secret 
of perpetual youth ; they were as long, black, and 
glossy as in the days when his wife had screamed 


1 72 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


and scolded at him in the verandah of their pri- 
vate dwelling-place about the future of their little 
grandson. The old man’s hair showed white and 
scanty above his brown forehead and sloe-like 
eyes, as he raised his battered pith hat to the two 
ladies descending from the smart trap. 

“ Good morning, Mr. Jahans,” said Mrs. Gor- 
ing graciously, “ I have brought you a new cus- 
tomer. This lady and her husband have just 
arrived from England, and they want some fur- 
niture to begin with.” 

Mr. Jahans grunted amicably. " Anything I 
got you can see,” he said, shuffling towards the 
building. “ There is one cheval-glass cheap ; Mrs. 
Colonel Todd, she leave it with us to sell.” 

“ Fancy starting furnishing with a cheval- 
glass ! ” murmured Selma, much amused. 

“ Here you — Norman,” said Mr. Jahans to his 
son, the scribe in the verandah. “ Get up, man, 
and see to these la-dees. You are always writ- 
ing, writing, never doing anything else, you are* 
so slow ” 

“How you chat-ter!” retorted Norman 
crossly to the old man, as he pushed aside his 
paper; but he turned a bland and smiling coun- 
tenance, with fat, pock-marked cheeks and a snub 
nose, to the would-be purchasers. He was gaudily 
dressed in a loud check suit of cotton material, 
aggressively yellow boots, and a flaming necktie. 
He smelt strongly of some musky scent, and wore 
rings set with coral on his third fingers. He led 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


173 

them into the crowded dusty rooms, and displayed 
wardrobes made of teak thinly stained and var- 
nished, clumsy dining-room chairs with wide cane 
seats and arms, and tables of every size and ap- 
pearance. He talked incessantly in a thick stac- 
cato voice until Mrs. Goring and Selma had se- 
lected a few necessaries in good condition, and 
had yielded to the seductions of the cheval-glass, 
which showed a fairly unspotted surface. To 
Selma’s amazement Mrs. Goring calmly offered 
considerably lower than those quoted by young 
Mr. Jahans, and she was still more surprised 
when he permitted himself to be beaten down and 
made but little protest, smiling indulgently, with 
an air of being far too good-natured to drive a 
hard bargain. 

As they emerged into the verandah they were 
met by old Mr. Jahans in company with his other 
son, who had just finished auctioning the 
stores. This gentleman was almost the exact 
counterpart of his brother Norman, but looked a 
year or two younger and was addressed as Ulick. 

“ We have got what we wanted, Mr. Jahans,” 
said Mrs. Goring; “your son has shown us every- 
thing, I think. You will have to keep the things 
for a little while till Mrs. Vereker is moving into 
her house — she is staying with me for the present 
— and we will let you know when to send them 
over.” 

“ What name ? ” said the old man sharply, 
“what name?” 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


174 

“Vereker — Mrs. Paul Vereker,” said Selma, 
who had hardly yet outworn her pride in her 
married name. “ My husband is the new assist- 
ant magistrate.’’ 

Mr. Jahans opened his mouth and stood star- 
ing at Selma, and when he had watched the two 
ladies get into the trap and drive away he turned 
to his sons. 

“ Did you hear ? ” he inquired eagerly, “ she 
said Werecker — Werecker ! — and Paul, too! Nor- 
man, Ulick, can this be Una’s boy come back? 
Now we shall see — now we shall see ! ” 

“ Oh, my! ” said Mr. Norman Jahans with an 
incredulous laugh, “ Cracky Billy ! ” 

“ Yes, now we shall see,” repeated Mr. Jahans 
with excitement. He ignored the facetious re- 
marks of Norman and Ulick concerning his con- 
jecture, settled his pith hat firmly on his head, 
and turned his back on his two sons. Thoughts 
of the past were slowly stirring in his mind, for 
the sudden possibility of Paul having returned to 
India had awakened a host of sleeping recollec- 
tions. His wife had been dead for many years, 
but the old man still missed her more than he 
realised himself, and the memory of her love for 
their little grandson came back to him sharply. 
He was filled with a strong desire to satisfy him- 
self as to the identity of this Paul Vereker who 
had just arrived from England, and with un- 
wonted energy he shuffled out of the compound 
and along the dusty road at a pace that was 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


175 


extraordinary considering his loose slippers and 
distaste for any exertion; but when he reached 
the gate of the mission bungalow he was obliged 
to lean up against one of the plastered pillars and 
gasp for breath. 

Mrs. Watson, the missionary’s wife, who was 
crossing the garden at that moment on her way 
from the church, perceived the exhausted figure 
and hastened forward. 

“ Why, Mr. Jahans,” she said kindly, “ were 
you coming to see me, or only resting at the gate ? 
Do come in and let me give you some lemonade 
or a cup of coffee to refresh you.” 

“I came to see you,” jerked out the visi- 
tor breathlessly, “ to tell you one thing that I 
think.” 

“Well, come along by all means, and let me 
hear what it is.” She led the way, and Mr. 
Jahans hobbled after her till they reached the 
sparely furnished centre-room of the mission 
bungalow. He took off his dingy hat and laid it 
on the floor as he seated himself. 

“ Mrs. Goring she giving ja tamasha this after- 
noon,” he began abruptly, “ her servant came to 
my place to hire some tables for tea in the com- 
pound, so that is how I know. You are going, 
h’n ? ” 

“ We have been invited,” replied Mrs. Watson, 
“ but I don’t thinks ” 

“Then go,” interrupted Mr. Jahans; “I ask 
you, please, to go, And when you are there, look 


176 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

and see if this Wereker — Paul Wereker — is 
Una’s boy come back, and then tell me.” 

“Mr. Jahans, what are you talking about?” 

“ Mrs. Goring, she bring a lady to my place 
to-day to buy furniture. Just come from Eng- 
land. Her name Mrs. Wereker, her husband 
Paul. So now ! ” 

“And you want me to meet them to-day at 
Mrs. Goring’s garden-party and find out if this 
Mr. Vereker is your grandson? ” 

“ Yess, yess, that is it! ” 

“ But he was a tiny boy when he went home. 
I should have to ask him point-blank if he was 
the same individual. And surely if it was Paul 
he would come and see you ! ” 

“For why? He was so little, as you say, 
when he left us, and people who go across the 
black water they forget quickly. Una never 
wrote after her mother died, and she married 
Mr. Alexander Christian. She said, ‘ Better let 
Paul forget us, and his uncle and aunt will do 
all for him.’ Now she has other children, and 
she will not mind much if it is Paul or not; but I 
should like to know. Mrs. Jahans loved the boy. 
He would remember us if he saw us, but, per- 
haps, not before.” 

“ Supposing this Mr. Vereker turns out to be 

your grandson ? ” 

“ Then let us know, and it will be all right.” 

“ But what is he doing out here ? ” 

“ He is the new * stunt sahib,’ I heard in the 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


177 

bazaar that one had come, and then his wife said 
it” 

“His wife!” repeated Mrs. Watson, aghast at 
the thought of the complication she might be 
about to witness; but Mr. Jahans, unconscious of 
her perturbation and blandly confident that she 
would carry out his wishes, proceeded to pick up 
his hat and prepare for departure as though the 
matter were now satisfactorily settled. 

“ Well, now I will go and tell Una, and if you 
find out it is Paul, you can let him know that his 
grandmother is dead, and Auntie Mactarn, and 
that I now live with Una and her husband; and 
how Norman is just married to his cousin Irene 
Passanah and lives with us as well, and Ulick, 
too.” 

In a petrified silence Mrs. Watson shook hands 
with the old half-caste, and stood motionless 
whilst he shambled across the compound. She 
stood so still that two large black crows hopped 
up the steps of the verandah and calculated their 
chances of getting past her into the house in 
search of plunder. She raised her hand to her 
forehead and they danced back on to the gravel, 
eyeing her resentfully. 

The last fourteen years had dealt hardly with 
the little woman; her hair was grey, her face 
shrunken and wrinkled, the look of anxious care 
had deepened in her patient eyes. She and her 
husband were still toiling submissively at Pragpur 
in the service of their Master, and now the chil- 


178 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

dren were all grown up and out in the world, 
except the youngest, who had died in his mother’s 
arms during one of the rare visits she had paid 
to England. Mrs. Watson was brave, practical, 
kind as ever, and now her sympathies were 
largely stirred by the possibilities involved in Mr. 
Jahans’ visit. She could enter into the old man’s 
feelings and his anxiety to know if the boy had 
really returned; but the prospect of such a con- 
tingency filled her with misgiving. How would 
a man coming straight from years of English 
life, customs, prejudices, and ideas accept these 
people as his relations? What would his wife 
think of them? How would matters arrange 
themselves? She felt keenly interested in the 
situation, and made up her mind that nothing 
should prevent her from attending Mrs. Goring’s 
garden party that afternoon. 

Meanwhile Mr. Jahans had hailed a passing 
gharry, and, after haggling with the driver for 
fully ten minutes, was conveyed home for four- 
pence to the hideous square bungalow standing 
in a barren area of dusty ground on the outskirts 
of the prison, for Mr. Alexander held the post of 
apothecary to the district jail. A dirty servant, 
attended by a group of mendicant crows, fowls, 
and pariah dogs, was squatting outside the front 
verandah washing up plates and dishes, and 
within the house the Christian family lingered 
over the remains of their mid-day breakfast in a 
shrill clamour of conversation. Una had grown 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 179 

enormous, and her once handsome features were 
nearly buried in rolls of flesh; she wore a loose 
dressing-gown with no waistband, and her arms 
filled the sleeves, giving them the appearance of 
monster sausages. A crowd of dusky children 
surrounded the table, Mrs. Norman Jahans ( nee 
Passanah was reading a book while she languidly 
finished some curry and rice, and opposite his 
wife sat Mr. Alexander Christian, attired in 
white drill trowsers and check coat. He was al- 
most as ponderous as Una, and certainly a good 
deal darker in complexion; but while his wife’s 
expression tended to apathetic good nature Mr. 
Christian’s countenance denoted a mixture of 
cunning and pomposity that was far from pre- 
possessing. 

Mr. Jahans entered, full of the events of the 
morning. 

“ What ? ” screamed Mrs. Christian, “ you say 
Paul has come back? — and married, too? Are 
you silly in your head ? ” 

“ Noh,” replied Mr. Jahans, relapsing into his 
usual taciturnity, being hurt by such an unsym- 
pathetic reception of his news. He took a seat 
at the table and called for some food. 

“ Well, if he has come back I do not want to 
see him,” continued Paul’s mother resentfully; 
“he never wrote all these years, his aunt never 
took any notice.” 

“ You did not write,” answered Mr. Jahans, 
argumentatively. 


i8o THE STRONGER CLAIM 

“Well, there were many things in the way — 
there was poor mama’s death directly after Paul 
went home, there was my marriage, and Alex- 
ander jealous ; the boy was far away — and — all.” 
She might have added that her inclination to 
write to her son had never been very strong, and 
that she had dropped the correspondence with re- 
lief. “ But if he has come back let him call.” 
She put on an air of great dignity. 

“ No, no,” said Mr. Christian magnanimously, 
44 the best way will be for me to call on him.” 

44 But I told you,” interposed Mr. Jahans, 
“ Mrs. Watson will find out to-day at Mrs. Gor- 
ing’s 4 tamasha,’ and she will come here after and 
tell us if it is Paul. Do not make plans till we 
know.” 

44 You would let a missionary’s wife make in- 
quiries about our familee?” said Mr. Christian; 
44 that is not at all becoming. I am the right 
person to ascertain these facts, being Una’s hus- 
band. I will go myself this afternoon, and send 
in my card to Mr. Goring and ask if I may inter- 
view the new assistant magistrate on a matter of 
importance.” Mr. Christian twirled his large 
black moustache fiercely, and swelled himself out 
like a bull-frog. Mr. Jahans looked at his daugh- 
ter helplessly ; he was always overpowered by his 
son-in-law’s blustering manner, though Mr. 
Christian was civil enough to his wife’s people, 
for Eurasians are seldom actively disagreeable. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 181 

“ Well, do as you please, of course; but if it is 
not Paul you will look a silly.” 

“ Do I ever look a silly ? ” demanded Mr. 
Christian, appealing to the company in general, 
who giggled good-naturedly while Mr. Jahans ate 
his breakfast in a gloomy silence. “ If it is not 
my stepson then there will be no harm. If it is, 
then it will be a very good thing for me in my 
official position to have the assistant magistrate 
as my relative. I may rise to be the civil surgeon 
of a small station; such things have happened. I 
am an A i physician, and in the mixing business,” 
suiting the action to the word, “ I am pucca, 
though I am not fond of surgery, and when it 
comes to the cutting and hacking — um-m-m.” 
Mr. Christian waggled his thumbs to indicate 
disgust and aversion, stuck out his under lip, and 
shook his head. 

“ Shall I come too this afternoon?” inquired 
Una. She would have enjoyed the excitement 
and importance, but felt reluctant to undertake 
the trouble of putting on her best clothes. 

“ No, no; you wait till we know if it is Paul, 
yes or no.” 

Una agreed. “Yes, better, better,” she said. 
“ I will look just now if your black clothes are 
all right, I think I saw a tear in the coat last Sun- 
day. You must put a clean cover on your 
umbrella, and Irene can fix a new puggaree on 
your helmet. And do not forget your gloves, 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


182 

dear, you often forget them and your hands are 
getting so burnt ! ” 

Later in the afternoon Mr. Alexander Chris- 
tian drove up to the Collector’s bungalow in his 
shabby bamboo cart drawn by a lean piebald 
pony; the garden-party was at its height, and 
from his halting-place under the porch he could 
see the tennis and badminton players darting to 
and fro over the smooth lawn ; he could hear their 
cheerful cries and laughter mingled with the 
regular beat of the native band in the distance 
under the mango-trees; he could distinguish a 
group of individuals standing beneath the striped 
canopy that sheltered the refreshment tables; and 
he recognised Mr. Goring, the General command- 
ing the station, the civil surgeon (with whom 
Mr. Christian was at perpetual warfare), the 
district judge, the wives of some of the officers of 
the English regiment, and many other people of 
comparative importance. His heart glowed, for 
if the new civilian who was at present the Col- 
lector’s guest should prove to be Una’s son, the 
whole of this distinguished company would soon 
know it, and what glory would be reflected on 
himself and his family! Visions of speedy pro- 
motion rose afresh in his mind, he saw himself 
taking a recognised position amongst Government 
officials, and dining at the same table as the Lieu- 
tenant-Governor. 

He hailed a scornful peon who had purposely 
ignored the half-caste. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 183 

“Here you — son of a pig!” he shouted in 
fluent Hindustani, “take my ticket to the Col- 
lector-Sahib at once, and say I wish to speak to 
the Chota-Sahib ” (junior sahib). He held out a 
greasy square of paper on which was inscribed in 
a clerkly hand, “A. Christian.” 

The chuprassie took it in his finger and 
thumb, a piece of impertinence that was lost on 
Mr. Christian, and wandered off in search of a 
salver. 

Presently the jail apothecary watched the man 
moving across the lawn towards his master, 
bearing the card on a silver tray, and it was per- 
haps as well for Mr. Christian's feelings that he 
was out of ear-shot. 

Mr. Goring was deep in conversation with the 
General and took the card absently, twirling it in 
his fingers while he finished his argument. When 
he glanced at it his short-sighted eyes failed to 
distinguish the stop after the letter A. 

“ Some wretched native Christian,” he said ; 
“ why on earth could he not have gone to the 
Cutcherry this morning instead of invading us 
here? I suppose he's begging on the strength of 
his religion." 

“ But he has driven up in a trap,” said Selma, 
who was standing near. “ Is that the man under 
the porch ? I've heard of a beggar on horseback, 
but not driving himself in a cart ! ” 

“ Tell him to go away,” said Mr. Goring to 
the chuprassie, and put the card back on the 


184 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

salver. “ I can’t see him now. He will find me 
at the Court House to-morrow morning.” 

“ It looks to me like Alexander Christian, the 
district jail apothecary,” said the civil surgeon, 
putting up his hands to his eyes to shade them 
from the sun, “ I know he possesses a piebald 
pony of sorts.” 

“ By jove! perhaps it is. I’d better see what 
he wants.” He hailed back the chuprassie, who 
had already begun his return journey across the 
lawn. “ What does he want ? Do you know ? ” 
he inquired of the man. 

“ He wishes to speak with the Chota-Sahib,” 
returned the peon, who had not before troubled 
himself to deliver the message. 

“ The Chota-Sahib ? Why, that is your hus- 
band, Mrs. Vereker! What can he be driving 
at? Well, perhaps I’d better go and see him.” 

He walked across the lawn and Selma ap- 
proached Paul, who was in deep conversation 
with an elderly dowdy little woman. 

“ Somebody has just driven up and has asked 
for you, Paul. Mr. Goring has gone to find out 
what he wants.” 

“ Perhaps it’s another old friend,” said Paul. 
“ This is Mrs. Watson, Selma, the lady who took 
charge of me on the voyage home when I was a 
little chap. Mrs. Watson, this is my wife — per- 
haps she will not thank you for having prevented 
me from falling overboard.” 

Selma smiled and shook hands with the mis- 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 185 

sionary ’s wife, who, she thought, looked the kind 
of person eminently fitted to take charge of chil- 
dren — patient, homely, reliable. 

“ I am so glad to meet you. I suppose you and 
Paul have been talking over old times, though he 
can’t remember them very clearly.” 

Mrs. Watson said nothing; she was in a state 
of dismayed perturbation. This beautiful girl 
with the graceful carriage, little society air, and 
charming manner was Paul Vereker’s wife — Paul 
Vereker, who though he might be handsome, 
cultivated, successful, was the grandson of old 
Jahans the Eurasian auctioneer, the son of Una 
Christian, the stepson of the jail apothecary at 
that moment complacently waiting beneath the 
porch to introduce himself as a relation. Mrs. 
Watson seeing him drive up had rightly guessed 
what had happened. 

During her talk with Paul after making herself 
known to him, she had quickly discovered that he 
recollected little or nothing that was clear and 
definite about his mother or her people, and that 
he was entirely ignorant of the fact that they were 
half-castes. She glanced nervously at the bright 
face of the girl, and then at the handsome figure 
standing near, and she realised that no one to 
whom the idea had not been suggested would 
suspect Paul of having native blood in his veins. 
He did not look quite English perhaps, but she 
had seen many men of Celtic origin who were far 
darker. The two made a splendid picture in their 


1 86 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


opposite types of beauty, and Mrs. Watson’s 
kindly heart sank low with pity. She could 
hardly bring herself to speak calmly to Selma for 
the impulse that possessed her to cry out a use- 
less warning of the approaching disclosure, and 
she was relieved when the young man drew his 
wife to one side. 

“ I asked her about my mother,” Mrs. Watson 
heard him say, “ I find she is still living here. 
Her name is Mrs. Alexander Christian.” 

Selma started. “ But that is the name of the 
man who has just come to see you, he is there 
under the porch now, — he — he — is the jail 
apothecary ! ” 

They gazed at one another in silence, with a 
sudden and simultaneous sense of foreboding. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Mr. Goring came slowly back across the lawn, 
his hands in his pockets, and a puzzled, disturbed 
expression on his face. He beckoned to Paul, 
who joined him, and the pair returned together 
to the porch. Selma watched them with eyes full 
of anxiety; she anticipated some discomforting 
revelation concerning her husband’s mother, and 
she stood waiting, in the midst of the gay com- 
pany, in forlorn apprehension. Her uneasiness 
deepened when presently she saw Paul get into 
Mr. Alexander Christian’s trap and drive off 
beside him, and as Mr. Goring made his way 
towards her again she felt instinctively that there 
was reluctance in every step he took. 

“ Your husband won’t be away long, Mrs. 
Vereker,” he said, with a curtness born of em- 
barrassment, “ he will be back soon ; he had to 
go and see some one on — on business.” 

He hurried away from her with a masculine 
dread of awkward questions, and Selma, under- 
standing, made no attempt at inquiry. She looked 
round for Mrs. Goring, but that lady was for the 
moment concealed by a group of leave-taking 
guests, and instead she caught sight of the worn 
face of the missionary’s wife, who was standing 
near. Selma turned swiftly to her with a sudden 
vague sense of comfort. 

187 


1 88 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


“ Mrs. Watson,”' she said in a low, hurried 
voice, “you were kind to Paul when he was a 
little boy : you know his mother — will you tell me 
if the man he has just driven away with has 
anything to do with his people ? ” 

Mrs. Watson looked straight before her, over 
the lawn ; she could not bear to meet the troubled 
eyes. “ Yes,” speaking steadily, “ he is Paul's 
stepfather.” 

“ But I heard them say Mr. Christian was the 
jail apothecary! Was Mrs. Vereker’s second 
marriage not — I mean was it out of her own class 
of life?” 

“ My dear, do you want me to be quite frank 
with you?” She laid her hand, in its coarse 
brown cotton glove, on the girl's arm, and Selma 
nodded; she could not speak for the throbbing 
of her pulses. 

“ Then let us go down this path where nobody 
will disturb us, and I will tell you everything. 
Perhaps when your husband comes back he will 
be relieved to find that you know.” 

They turned and walked up and down between 
rows of oleander bushes that were hung with 
clusters of pink and white blossoms. The “ seven- 
sister ” birds quarrelled and fussed amongst the 
roots, and indulged in dust-baths almost beneath 
the feet of the intruders; grey squirrels danced 
across the path, and sweet odours of wet earth 
and responsive flowers rose from a neighbouring 
plot that had been recently watered ; in the near 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 189 

distance sounded the ring of voices and laughter, 
the rattle of tea-things, and the rhythm of a waltz 
played mechanically by the native band. Keep- 
ing her hand on the round warm arm in its dainty 
lace sleeve, Mrs. Watson gently spoke the truth 
concerning Paul’s maternal relations, and when 
she had finished she waited in silent trepidation. 
What effect would it have upon the girl? What 
would be her first impulse? Selma’s face was 
white and her eyes were glazed with tears. 

“ Oh, poor Paul ! ” she said, hardly above her 
breath. Her first thought was for her husband, 
and Mrs. Watson felt relieved. Paul Vereker’s 
wife would need a brave, unselfish heart to carry 
her through the coming difficulties. 

“ Thank you very much,” said Selma, trying to 
steady her voice, “ I am glad I know, for it would 
have been very hard for Paul to have to tell me. 
Now I can be ready to help and comfort him 
when he comes back, and we can talk it all over 
quietly. The difference in class on his mother’s 
side will be a dreadful shock to him, and the other 

drawback Mrs. Watson, why should it be 

considered such a terrible disadvantage to have — 
not to be quite European ? I can understand the 
aversion to negro blood, that is so low in the scale 
of humanity, but surely” — her tone was plain- 
tively persuasive — “ the people of India have as 
much to be proud of in their own way as our- 
selves ? When we were naked savages this was a 
highly civilised country ! ” 


190 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


“ Yes, yes, I know,” Mrs. Watson spoke doubt- 
fully, in spite of her efforts to do otherwise, “ and 
of course that is what we missionaries are always 
preaching — that the native is the equal of the 
white man when he embraces the true religion, 
and then sometimes his superior.” 

“ But do you think so yourself? I am asking 
for your own private opinion.” 

Mrs. Watson hesitated. By acknowledging her 
own private opinion at that moment she could 
only add to the girl’s distress. 

“ You cannot, with any justice, compare East 
and West,” she said with evasion, “ the points of 
view are so utterly different; it is the polarity of 

race, and the two were never meant to mix ” 

she checked herself abruptly. “ My child,” she 
added, “I am afraid you will both have many 
trials to face, and please remember that if ever I 
can help you in any way you may rely on me.” 

Selma thanked her companion abstractedly, for 
her mind was in confusion. She hardly knew 
what she was doing, and as they passed from the 
shelter of the oleanders back to the lawn she 
almost fell over one of the garden coolies, who, 
in slovenly puggaree and scanty clothing, was 
squatting on his heels watering a row of seed- 
lings. Instinctively she drew away her skirts in 
shrinking repugnance at having so nearly touched 
him, while the man rose and salaamed in dull- 
witted respect. 

Selma stood still, gripped by a sinister, creeping 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


191 

dismay. She had suddenly recognised the same 
sense of antipathy that she had experienced when 
Mrs. Goring’s ayah had tried to assist her, and 
she realised slowly, strickenly, that in her hus- 
band’s veins ran the blood of these dark people 
from whom she recoiled with involuntary aver- 
sion. Forgetting the missionary’s wife and urged 
by a necessity for solitude she walked quickly 
towards the house. During her progress she had 
to steer her way amongst the little native boys in 
bright uniforms who were frantically chasing the 
tennis-balls. She had to pass the refreshment 
tables, in attendance about which were grouped 
rows of servants with white garments and dusky 
faces. Under the trees the members of the band 
grinned and peered in an interval of their per- 
formance. Fringing the drive were squatting 
syces in charge of horses and carriages. In the 
verandah three or four peons rose and ceased 
their chatter as she passed. Everywhere black 
faces. She had once said she would hate to be 
surrounded by them, and now that the instinct 
had asserted itself she must fight against it all her 
life long, she must never betray it, must always 
be on her guard, because the man she had mar- 
ried was partly “ black ” himself. 

She raised her hands to her forehead with a 
gesture of despair, and hurried into her bedroom. 
Through the open door of the dressing-room 
beyond, she could see their Bombay servant lay- 
ing out his master’s dress clothes. 


192 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


“ Go ! ” she called out to the man violently — 
“ go ! ” And with a cough of surprised apology 
he hastily obeyed her. 

She moved with painful unrest about the 
spacious room, and tried to think coherently. 
They must leave the Gorings’ house as soon as 
possible. Knowing the dislike and contempt in 
which Eurasians were held by their hostess, how 
could they stay a moment longer than was inevi- 
table ? Besides, she would have to receive Paul’s 
people, and, under the circumstances, this could 
only be done in her own house. She remembered 
the auction-room, old Mr. Jahans, the two oily 
sons — would her mother-in-law be like them? 
Then she forced herself to consider Paul’s situa- 
tion apart from her own; to drown her feelings 
in pity and sympathy for his; to dwell on her 
love for him. Her love? For one short moment 
it seemed as though some fiend were present, 
twisting and poisoning her thoughts ; recalling to 
her memory the reluctance with which she had 
yielded to Paul’s curious attraction; reminding 
her that she had fought instinctively against his 
allurement; whispering that he had conquered 
her only by his passion. 

Selma dreaded Paul’s return, yet she longed 
impatiently for him to come. She wished to 
understand the best and the worst of the situa- 
tion — to realise exactly how she felt towards him, 
for she suspected that she had temporarily lost 
her sense of mental proportion. Her world ap- 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


193 

peared desolate; she could not contemplate the 
future; her courage was very low. 

Shaken with emotion, she threw herself on her 
knees beside the bed and tried to pray for 
strength and help; but words would not come. 
She had always taken her religious feelings for 
granted, had gone to church, done her easy duty, 
said her prayers, and had never met with occa- 
sion to test her convictions. Doubtless she would 
have told any one else that spiritual consolation 
was the one refuge in time of trouble; but now, 
seeking it for herself, it seemed nebulous, in- 
tangible, and only a helpless resentment filled her 
heart against the cruelty of Fate. 

She knelt with her face buried in the pillow till 
the room grew dim, and the sounds of shouted 
orders and the roll of carriage wheels outside the 
house told that the garden-party was over, and 
that the guests were leaving. Then came a still- 
ness, the door was softly opened, and Mrs. Goring 
entered. She looked anxiously into the girl's tear- 
stained face as Selma rose hurriedly to her feet. 

“ Who told you ? ” she asked ; and Selma an- 
swered simply, “ Mrs. Watson.” 

“ I am sincerely sorry for you.” 

There was something about Mrs. Goring's 
calm reserved presence that had the effect of 
bracing Selma and helping her to recover self- 
control more than any emotional sympathy could 
have done. She shook out her skirts and pushed 
back the hair from her face. 


194 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


“ I must dress for dinner,” she said nervously ; 
“ of course I am rather upset — it was all so un- 
expected.” 

“ Yes, I could hardly believe it when my hus- 
band told me. Neither of you had any idea of it 
before?” 

“ Certainly not. Even now I can’t realise what 
it will mean, or what difference it will make. 
Have you ever heard of such a situation as 
this?” 

“ Not quite the same, but something near it. 
The man knew about his relations — they lived in 
the bazaar and were much worse than the Jahans 
people — he went home and married, and brought 
his wife out.” 

" Without telling her? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Paul would never have done that ! ” 

“ When she found out she went back to Eng- 
land. She left him.” 

“ I shall not do that, either,” said Selma, flush- 
ing. “ That is a case quite different from ours, 
Mrs. Goring.” 

“ My dear Mrs. Vereker, I can see that you 
have pluck and spirit, and common sense. The 
best thing you can do will be to persuade your 
husband to go home and begin life again in Eng- 
land if you can afford it; if you can’t you must 
get a transfer to another province and try to 
keep the story quiet.” 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


195 

“ I shall do exactly what Paul wishes/’ said 
Selma with dignity. 

“ He may not realise what a terrible difference 
it will make to him both officially and socially if 
he stays on here. You are the only person who 
has a right to argue with him on the subject, and 
I speak to you plainly because I feel you are 
worth it, and that you will understand my motive. 
Officially there must be a prejudice against a man 
who has a herd of half-caste, almost native, rela- 
tions living in the place where he. holds a Govern- 
ment appointment. The authorities would fear 
his being biassed, and the distrust which arises 
from experience in many such cases would be a 
serious handicap to your husband, though no 
doubt he would live it down. Socially, the draw- 
back of your connections being here could not be 
ignored, and you would find it most unpleasant. 
People would not wish to be unkind, but they 
would not care to run the risk of meeting the 
Jahans contingent at your house; they would 
always be terrified of saying something in your 
presence that might cause awkwardness and hurt 
your feelings, and therefore they would never be 
at ease with you. Probably you would find many 
people anxious to befriend you because they 
might be sorry for you to begin with, and have a 
genuine liking for you as well, but you would 
always be conscious of the barrier and feel un- 
certain of your ground, and your position would 


196 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

be a false one altogether. In every-day life the 
situation would probably affect you personally 
more than it would your husband, though I have 
already told you that it might handicap his career. 
For your own sake and for Mr. Vereker’s I ad- 
vise you to go as far away as possible from 
Pragpur, and, believe me, I know what I am 
talking about.” 

Selma’s face was very white, and she turned 
away with an uneasy movement. “ Thank you,” 
she answered a little hoarsely, “ it is better for me 
to know what to expect if we stay. But I cannot 
urge Paul to run away ; he must do as he thinks 
best.” She paused, and as Mrs. Goring went 
towards the door she added, “I am no longer 
surprised that you hate India ! ” 

The gong was clamouring the dinner hour 
when Paul came back. Selma was dressed, her 
hair carefully arranged, her eyes freshened with 
cold water, all traces of agitation subdued. Her 
husband’s face was quite impassive as he hurried 
into the room, and she could form no opinion as 
to how the interview with his relations had im- 
pressed him; she met him in distressed anxiety 
to relieve him of the burden of explanation. 

“ Paul, I know everything — Mrs. Watson told 
me,” she began with quick nervousness. “ I am 
so sorry for you, dear — I will help you all I can — 
I shan’t mind a bit — it will make no differ- 
ence ” she stopped, fearing that she had in- 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


197 

sisted on her loyalty to the verge of betraying her 
recent feelings. 

His strange green eyes shone in the lamplight 
as he caught her hand and kissed it; then he 
pushed her gently towards the door. “ Go and 
say I shan't be long; we must talk afterwards." 

She understood that he wished her to behave as 
if nothing unusual had occurred, and she chatted 
in the drawing-room with Mr. Goring, who she 
perceived was supremely uncomfortable, until 
Paul appeared ten minutes later and offered his 
arm to his hostess with apologies, but not excuses, 
for his unpunctuality. During dinner Mrs. Gor- 
ing and Selma kept up an artificial conversation 
concerning books, pictures, and plays ; Paul 
joined in it, and also tried to lead his superior 
official to talk a little “ shop." The only person 
who seemed to be thoroughly ill at ease was Mr. 
Goring himself; he failed to grasp the psycho- 
logical aspect of the situation, and marvelled 
privately how some people could be so confound- 
edly thick-skinned. 

The evening was unexpectedly prolonged, for 
dinner was scarcely over when some near and in- 
timate neighbours, who had been absent from the 
garden-party, strolled across from their bunga- 
low to explain their non-appearance, and were 
persuaded by Mrs. Goring to stay — their pres- 
ence being a relief to everybody. Consequently 
it was nearly midnight before Paul and Selma 
found themselve alone. She moved to the dress- 


19B THE STRONGER CLAIM 

ing-table and began to take off her rings, brace- 
lets and necklace. He followed, and as he stood 
behind her their eyes met in the looking-glass. 
She lowered hers, for they were full of a dread 
that he might guess the state of her mind; she 
tingled with a shrinking, sensitive reserve, which 
she was making desperate efforts to overcome. 

“ Tell me what happened, Paul,” she said 
gently ; “ you went to see your mother ? ” 

“Yes; it was all so sudden and unexpected. 
That fellow Christian came to find out if I was 
his stepson, and to stop his chatter I volunteered 
to go back with him; I thought it the best thing 
to do. I asked Goring to tell you I had gone to 
see some one on business, because I didn’t want 
you to be worried before it was necessary.” 

“I asked Mrs. Watson, and she told me the 
whole story. She is a dear, kind soul. How did 
you get on ?” 

“ Well, I can’t deny that the visit was very try- 
ing. My mother and I are practically strangers 
— I think she lost all interest in me after she 
married again — and then to find that she and her 
people belong to such a different class from what 
we have been accustomed to is very humiliating 
and disagreeable. But I mind that far more for 
your sake than I do for my own. I feel as if I 
had married you under false pretences.” 

“ Oh, don’t, Paul ! — what nonsense ! — you 
didn’t know, and besides, if you had it would 
have made no difference to me.” Her heart gave 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 199 

a little accusing throb. Would it have made no 
difference? She hoped not. He began to pace 
restlessly up and down the room. 

“ There is another thing/' he went on in the 
rapid nervous tone which was always noticeable 
when anything excited him. “ I understand now 
why India has always drawn me — why she has 
always held such a fascination for me. Why, I 
don’t think I could bear to leave her now that I 
have once come back. It is because I belong to 
the country.” 

“Yes,” said Selma, pretending to search for 
something on the dressing-table. 

“ But there is no disgrace in that to me — none 
whatever. The whole difficulty of the situation 
lies in the unfortunate difference of class. That 
must be a very hard trial for us both, for either 
we shall have to acknowledge these people, who 
certainly are my relations, or I must take you 
away altogether. The thing is, what would you 
like to do ? ” 

“ Oh, Paul, don’t put it on to me ! ” she said 
piteously. How could she urge him to take her 
away — to shirk a disagreeable position — espe- 
cially when, if Mrs. Goring’s words were true, 
the brunt of the unpleasantness entailed by their 
remaining at Pragpur would fall on herself? 
But there was also Paul’s career to be considered. 
" Mrs. Goring talked it over with me before you 
came in,” she added; “she was very kind, but 
she told me plainly that you might suffer offi- 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


200 

dally here because your people belong to the 
country. Of course in that case perhaps we 

ought to go, but personally ” 

He threw out his hands, palms upward. “ That 
decides me ! ” he said fiercely ; “ I will stay here 
whatever happens. ,, If Lady Jardine could have 
seen him then his likeness to his father would 
have struck her again, just as it had suddenly 
done that evening at Farm Park when Paul had 
fallen in love with Selma Neale. “ Because a 
man has the blood of India in his veins, is he to 
be treated differently unless he proves himself 
incompetent? This is a country that is old in 
original wisdom, she is steeped in knowledge, and 
beauty, and mystery! I tell you, Selma, I am 
glad I belong to her — I am proud of it!” 


CHAPTER XIV 


The morning after the garden-party Mr. Goring 
stifled his natural aversion to dealing with dis- 
agreeables not entirely official, and “ talked to ” 
his new assistant ; but with no more effect, as he 
subsequently told Mrs. Goring, than if he had 
addressed the gate-post. “ The fellow is a mass 
of obstinacy and self-confidence,” he said; “the 
only thing to do is to let him have his head, and 
if he runs it into the wall it won’t be my fault.” 

“ What did you say to him ? ” 

“ I advised him to ask his wife’s uncle, Colonel 
Everard, to get him transferred to another prov- 
ince where his origin wouldn’t be known. I 
pointed out that if he stayed on here where the 
natives could see all his half-caste relations his 
official authority wouldn’t be worth much. I 
also told him that his people would be constantly 
trying to bring undue influence to bear on him to 
get subordinate appointments for themselves and 
their friends — which is fair enough to the Orien- 
tal mind, but an abomination to the English 
Government — and that he would find himself in 
a very difficult position.” 

“ Well?” 

“ Then he began talking a lot of rot about In- 
dia and its ancient civilisation, and clap-trap 
201 


202 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


about British prejudice and indifference, until I 
had to be brutally frank and tell him he was only 
a youngster, and that he had come out here to 
work as an Englishman. I said he would never 
do well from an official point of view in a place 
where he was known to be black. ,, 

“ Oh ! ” 

“ Well, he brought it on himself. I explained 
that as a general rule Eurasians were not to be 
depended on in an emergency; that in a serious 
riot or a tight place they couldn’t be trusted not 
to lose their nerve. I also mentioned the fact 
that they were not proof against corruption ; and 
that for these reasons they could hardly ever be 
placed in positions of responsibility. Of course 
I said that all this would not necessarily apply to 
him with his English advantages and predomi- 
nance of white blood, but I impressed on him 
that if he stayed in the same province with his 
people, not to speak of the same station, it could 
only result in a case of ‘ give a dog a bad, or 
rather a black, name and hang him ! ’ ” 

“ Did he understand ? ” 

“If he did he wouldn’t own it. I believe he’s 
cracked, and he seems rather to like being dark 
than otherwise. As to his mother’s position in 
life he said he had no particular feeling about 
that except for his wife’s sake, and as she was 
willing to accept the circumstances he thought 
it was nobody’s business but their own. I’m 
sorry for Mrs. Vereker.” 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


203 


“ She is a brave soul, and has more character 
for her age than any girl I have ever met. I 
hate girls as a rule, but she is one in a thousand. 
What could have induced her to marry that youth 
besides his beauty? — which is certainly unde- 
niable. I tried to make her see reason again this 
morning, but though I am sure to a certain extent 
she does see it, nothing will persuade her to re- 
treat from the situation. It's a high-minded, self- 
sacrificing attitude that could only be produced by 
extreme youth and inexperience. All I can do is 
to help her settle into her new home, and stand 
by her as much as she will allow me. I am letting 
them have the trap this afternoon to go and call 
on the Christians. ,, 

“ Oh, Lord ! ” said Mr. Goring. 

“Yes; and I must confess that I would give a 
great deal to know how the visit goes off, but 
I am sure Mrs. Vereker will never let out a 
word.” 

She was right. Selma never described the visit 
to her. 

Mr. and Mrs. Vereker started early in the af- 
ternoon ( feeling this to be a less formal proceed- 
ing than to call between the orthodox visiting 
hours of twelve and two) and they drove up to an 
apparently deserted dwelling. They sat in the 
trap in the blazing sunshine, patiently waiting 
while the syce ran round the bungalow emitting 
discordant cries which failed to call forth any 
human response. The doors of the servants’ 


204 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


quarters were all shut, and the only sign of life 
on the premises was a black and white goat that 
was nibbling at a dusty rose-bush, and that 
bleated protestingly every time the man shouted. 
The white-washed building glared in the strong 
light; a little soapy water was trickling from a 
drain-pipe that protruded from the wall a few 
inches from the ground; now and then a cloud 
of dust from the thoroughfare behind them arose 
and blew against the “ chicks '' (blinds of split 
cane) that were lowered all around the veran- 
dahs. 

“ Don't they expect us ? " asked Selma. “ Are 
you sure you told them you would bring me to- 
day ? ” 

“ Yes, but I didn't mention any particular time 
— I did not think it would matter/' 

At that moment the sallow face of a little girl 
peered cautiously round one of the chicks. Selma 
suspected, with a sinking heart, that this was a 
half-sister of Paul's. 

“ Is your mother at home ? " she inquired 
gently. 

The chick was promptly dropped, and they 
could see the child's black eyes gazing at them 
through the cracks. 

“What on earth are we to do? Shall we go 
into the house ? " suggested Selma. 

Paul lifted up his voice in a final despairing 
shout, and at last an old ayah, dilapidated, yel- 
low, toothless, came round the side of the house 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 205 

and stood on one leg, while Selma (who had been 
primed by Mrs. Goring in the calling customs of 
the country) gave her the visiting cards; but as 
the ayah had coyly covered her face with her 
wrapper on beholding Paul, it was like endeavour- 
ing to hand something to a blind person. The 
old woman eventually grabbed the cards and 
disappeared, whereupon the little girl, gaining 
confidence, emerged from her ambush behind 
the chick. She was dressed in red merino, and 
her hair was plaited into a tight, slippery pig- 
tail. 

“ What is your name ? ” asked Selma pleas- 
antly. 

“ Wi,” blinking her eyelids. 

“ Because I should like to know,” replied 
Selma, somewhat astonished at what she mistook 
for an ungracious counter-question. 

“ Wi, I said Wi ! ” cried the child in shrill 
impatience, “ my name is Wiolet ! ” 

Then she added more calmly, “ My mamma 
she washing her head in the gussel-khana ” 
(bathroom), and she pointed to the water soak- 
ing into the ground from the pipe. 

“ Look here, Selma, shall we give it up now 
and write and fix a time to come ? ” said Paul in 
a distressed voice. 

“No, no, dear — it will be all right, I expect; 
at any rate wait till the ayah comes back, we 
can’t go away now after sending in our 
cards.” 


206 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


The ayah returned, and, after standing like an 
image of Lot’s wife swathed from head to foot 
in her limp white garments, announced in a high 
cracked voice, “ Salaam ! ” which meant that the 
visitors were to enter the house. They crossed 
the broad verandah that was crowded with odds 
and ends of clumsy furniture, and enlivened by 
plants in kerosene oil-tins. A talking myna (the 
Indian starling), hanging up in a roomy wicker 
cage, began to show off his accomplishments at 
sight of them. He neighed like a horse, coughed 
like a night-watchman, with ghastly hollow 
sounds, and chattered volubly in Hindustani. 
The room within seemed to be pitch dark by con- 
trast with the glare outside, and the Verekers 
groped for chairs until their eyes became accus- 
tomed to the change. 

The furniture was dusty and decayed, and 
seemed to display a patient air of resignation, as 
though anticipating the day when the final and 
inevitable breakdown should take place. A large 
round table leant humbly towards the floor; a 
mouldy “ suite ” was arranged around it ; some 
black and gold what-nots and two marble-topped 
chiffonniers propped themselves against the wall 
— remnants of the household possessions that 
had given such delight to Una in the early days 
of her first marriage. Some tattered Japanese 
fans were nailed to the harsh white-washed walls, 
which were spotted and stained by the excava- 
tions of white ants. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 207 

Paul and Selma sat in silence, listening to the 
subdued bustle in the next room, sounds that 
suggested the hasty pattering of bare feet, the 
rummaging of cupboards, and occasionally a 
sharp reprimand. At last Mrs. Christian sailed 
in; her plentiful black hair had been insufficiently 
dried, and formed a wet heap on the top of her 
head; she was panting loudly, for she had just 
pressed her enormous proportions into her best 
gown, a mustard-coloured silk, profusely adorned 
with gold beads. She had left the body open 
at the neck, very wisely preferring untidiness to 
strangulation. She wore a heavy amber neck- 
lace, with bracelets and earrings to match, and 
her loose heelless slippers clapped on the ground 
as she walked. 

For a moment Selma hesitated. How could 
she bring herself to embrace this dun-coloured 
mass of perspiring flesh? She glanced at Paul, 
and one look at his troubled face gave her cour- 
age. Had she not undertaken to uphold him in 
his desire to acknowledge his people and remain 
at Pragpur? She must not fail him at the very 
first trial of her strength. She rose and held 
out her hands to her mother-in-law, who kissed 
her with noisy welcome, but was evidently a little 
nervous and excited. 

“ Well, I never !” exclaimed Mrs. Christian in 
high staccato tones, “ fancy you being Paul's 
wife! ” She stepped back and gazed admiringly 
at Selma. “ So grand you are ! and pretty ! and 


208 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


such beautiful clothes ! When you did not come 
this morning I thought, ‘ Now, they will not be 
here till five o’clock or six,’ or else I would have 
been ready. We have all been wondering and 
wondering what you would be like ever since 
Paul came yesterday. My! what a shock I got 
to see him again ! And to think that now he is 
back in the same place as his father, and in the 
Civil Service, and so like him, too ! Ah, well ! it 
was a terrible thing that cholera year! — but it 
was all a long time ago, and we get over our 
worst troubles — h’n ? ” 

Paul began to walk about the room with rest- 
less, irritable steps. 

“ I am afraid they kept you waiting outside in 
all the sun,” continued Mrs. Christian, sinking 
into a chair and inviting Selma to do the same. 
“ The servants have all gone off to the bazaar 
without orders — they are so troublesome, these 
people ! I have told the ayah to call the children 
— they are in the next compound with their 
cousins, the De Souzas, but my big boy, Cyril, 
he is not well — he is in bed.” 

“ I hope it is nothing serious ? ” said Selma 
politely. 

“ Oh ! no ! — he has only a pain in his stomach 
— he will be all right just now. He went out to 
tea yesterday, and I think he indulged too much. 
He is very fond of going out, and he is quite a 
drawing-room man already, though he is only 
thirteen ! Paul was quite different when he was 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


209 


little.” She regarded her eldest son with amiable 
reproach. “ He was never a talker, and so shy, 
and no appetite.” 

Paul stopped in front of his mother. 

“ I wanted to ask you,” he began, ignoring 
her reminiscences of his childhood, “ whether you 
have anything of my father’s you could give 
me — any belongings, or photographs, books, or 
pictures ? ” 

Mrs. Christian shook her head. “ It was all 
such a long time back,” she said in plaintive ex- 
cuse, “ and in moving house things get lost. 
There was his watch and chain — well, I let Alex- 
ander have that. But one night a thief stole it, 
and the studs and the rings and the pin, too! 
Such a pity ! The pictures and books they were 
all eaten by the white ants when I was a widow, 
and my property was stored in the go-down. 
Such another pity! But if you want things of 
the past — there is the old sandal-wood box which 
belonged to Bibi Jahans, with some relics. Your 
grandfather keeps it. Some day,” with a know- 
ing nod at Selma, “ you must coax it out of him. 
He will not give it to me — but I do not want her 
rubbish ! She was an old rascal, and left all her 
money to the priests to build a temple instead of 
to us. I feel quite ashamed when I think of 
her!” 

“ Oh ! I believe I remember that box ! ” said 
Paul suddenly; and a confused recollection re- 
turned to him of the house by the river, the old 


210 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


woman, with eyes dimmed by age and sickness, 
propped up on a bed in a nest of pillows, and 
the large garden full of native flowers and fruit 
trees. 

“Well, here is your grandfather at last!” as 
Mr. Jahans shuffled in. “ He has had fever, and 
did not go to the auction-place to-day.” 

Selma, remembering that she had last seen the 
old man respectfully attending to herself and 
Mrs. Goring at the auction rooms, felt her cheeks 
grow crimson. Mr. Jahans looked feeble and 
shaky and was evidently much embarrassed by the 
presence of his grandson’s wife. His manner 
to her was anxiously deferential, and he seated 
himself in silence, fondling his long whiskers 
and gazing at Paul with an expression of pride 
in his dull, black eyes that touched Selma’s heart. 
She tried to talk to him, and had almost succeeded 
in starting a conversation, when Mr. Alexander 
Christian blustered in. 

“ I am glad to see you in my house — both of 
you ! ” he said, shaking hands with effusion. “ I 
hope you will be often here, and that you will 
run in when you like. Una, where is tea? 
Where is your orange wine? Do you mean to 
say you have offered no hospitality? Fie — for 
shame ! ” 

The Verekers protested that it was too early 
for tea, but Mr. Christian remarked that it was 
never too early for orange wine, and Selma was 
obliged to swallow and praise some of the sickly 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


21 1 


mixture that had been brewed by Mrs. Chris- 
tian’s own fat hands. 

Then Irene Jahans, the bride, came languidly 
through the door from which Mr. Christian had 
just emerged. She was a slight, pretty-looking 
young woman, with pale brown hair and a dark 
tint under her colourless skin. She had assumed 
the role of a semi-invalid with her marriage — 
the correct attitude, according to Eurasian eti- 
quette, for a married lady. The Christian chil- 
dren followed — three little boys dressed in brown 
velveteen and pith hats much too large for them, 
and Wi, the only daughter. (Cyril being unable 
to appear, was represented by his tame mon- 
goose, that ran furtively round the room and 
caused Selma agonies of apprehension that it 
would come in her direction.) They stood by 
the dejected-looking table and stared at their new 
relatives, and Selma wondered how so many peo- 
ple managed to find room to live together in the 
bungalow. She did her best to be pleasant, tell- 
ing them of the house she had taken, and actually 
laughing with old Mr. Jahans over the fact that 
she had already bought some of her furniture 
from him without knowing who he was. 

“ And now you need not pay ! ” he chuckled, 
much amused. “ What a lucky thing — h’n ? and 
you can come and choose what you like from my 
place. Anything I got you can have ! ” 

“ What will Norman and Ulick say to that? ” 
warned Una. 


212 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


“ I do not care what they say ! ” answered Mr. 
Jahans, who was now completely enslaved by 
Selma. He shuffled round to her side, and lay- 
ing his hand on her shoulder, besought her to 
apply to him for whatever she required for her 
house; while Mr. Christian clamorously pressed 
her to take more orange wine. 

“ It is so weak ! ” he urged, “ you can drink a 
whole bottle and yet you will be able to walk ! ” 

In the midst of Mrs. Christian’s shocked laugh- 
ter at this remark, Paul signalled to his wife, 
and they rose to take their departure. The move 
was received with noisy protest, and the subse- 
quent farewells occupied considerable time. The 
entire family escorted the visitors into the veran- 
dah, where the myna added to the din by pouring 
forth a flood of Hindustani. 

“ Oh, my ! what language ! ” said Mr. Christian 
in pretended horror, “ where could he have learnt 
such words ! ” 

“What does it matter?” said Mrs. Christian 
indulgently, “he is but a bird.” 

She stood smiling, and nodding, and waving 
her hands, while Paul and Selma got into the 
trap; and having seen them drive away, Mrs. 
Christian sent to the bazaar for a “ ticca-gharry.” 
She felt that since she had gone to the trouble 
and exertion of making an elaborate toilette she 
might just as well take the opportunity of pay- 
ing a round of visits, in order to apprise all her 
friends, and even her enemy, Mrs. Lightowler, 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


213 


the station-master’s wife, of the wonderful posi- 
tion to which her son had attained, and the beauty 
and superiority of her daughter-in-law. 


“ This isn’t the way we came,” said Selma, 
when she and Paul had driven for some distance 
along the dusty road. Since leaving the Chris- 
tians’ bungalow neither of them had spoken till 
this moment, and now they were passing through 
an unfashionable suburb of the great bazaar: 
naked brown children rolled in the gutters to- 
gether with the pariah dogs, and refuse of fruit, 
vegetables, and rags ; natives strolled along in the 
middle of the narrow street apparently indifferent 
to the danger of being run over; beggars whined, 
and crawled, and lifted up their hands for alms; 
the shops were little more than slabs of musty 
thatch supported against the walls of the houses 
by bamboo poles, and the wares exposed to the 
sun, dust and flies were in keeping with the gen- 
eral squalor of the surroundings. 

“ No,” answered Paul — his voice sounded de- 
pressed — “ I know it is not the way we came, 
but I don’t want to go back yet. I should like 
to go down to the river, and I think this road 
ought to take us there. I must get that room 
out of my mind. You can’t think how I felt 
seeing you sitting there amongst those people, 
and knowing they were my nearest relations ! I 
hadn’t realised before what it would mean and 


214 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


what a gulf there is between you and them. I 
am wondering if, for your sake, I hadn’t better 
follow Goring’s advice and chuck the province.” 
For a moment Selma’s heart leapt with hope. 
“Of course, if I had only myself to consider I 
shouldn’t hesitate to stay after what Goring said 
to me this morning — if it was but for the satis- 
faction of proving myself the exception to his 
narrow rule.” 

“ What did he say ? ” 

“ Oh, a lot that made me feel more than ever 
determined to hold my own. He is full of preju- 
dice. Here he is, a man in authority over thou- 
sands of people, ruling a district larger than two 
ordinary English counties put together, and yet 
he seems to know nothing of the wisdom and 
truth underlying the life of the country. He 
looks on the native as a 4 black man/ as a con- 
quered slave, as an ignorant, degraded, corrupt 
member of the human race ; never to be believed, 
never to be trusted ; to be governed without sym- 
pathy, and without understanding. He hates the 
country and only looks upon his office as a path- 
way to a pension, and a means of saving money 
to spend when he gets out of it.” 

For a moment Selma was tempted to take ad- 
vantage of his hesitation. A little persuasion and 
complaint would free her from a position that 
must only become more intolerable with time; 
would put miles between her and the Christian 
family ; perhaps release her from India altogether, 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


215 

and so help her to forget that Paul belonged to 
the country. She looked around in revolt against 
the dirt, the apathy, the disease visible on every 
side as they traversed the narrow street. The 
close, unwholesome smells in the air sickened her ; 
she failed to find any consolation in the effect of 
rich and vivid colouring caused by the sunny at- 
mosphere, the irregular lines of the flat, white 
house-tops against the brilliance of the sky, and 
the many-hued garments of the indolent crowd of 
loiterers by the way. She thought of her moth- 
er-in-law, and of the half-caste family herding in 
the little bungalow, with their narrow, vulgar out- 
look and uncongenial habits that belonged neither 
to East nor to the West. She shrank from the 
prospect of the months and years of self-repres- 
sion that lay before her, and she was on the 
point of crying out that she could not bear to 
face such a future; that, like the Gorings, she, 
too, hated India, recoiled instinctively from the 
natives, and would be thankful never to see the 
country again. 

“ I feel torn in two,” continued Paul, so check- 
ing the words on her lips. “You know well 
enough how devoted I am to you, my dearest; 
how can I be selfish and keep you here with these 
relations of mine in a lower class of life hamper- 
ing you at every turn ? Yet it seems to me rather 
a coward’s part to turn my back on them and 
sneak away; and I long to show my respected 
Collector that I can face what he considers to be 


2 16 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


my disadvantages and rise, triumphant, above 
them; I feel so strongly about it.^ 

“ I know ! ” The sympathy in the girl’s 
nature welled up and drowned her own fears and 
inclinations; also she honoured Paul’s point of 
view. “ I can understand ; and believe me, I 
mean it, Paul, when I say that I choose to stay 
here with you. I do it of my own free will. 
We will face it together; and after all, if we 
find that other people are right and the situation 
becomes impossible, we can but own ourselves 
beaten and run away. Luckily, with your brains 
and my money, we never need fear the future.” 

She smiled up at him bravely, and the loving 
gratitude in his eyes seemed to lighten her dread 
of the time to come. He shifted the reins to his 
right hand, and with his left he grasped her fin- 
gers lying in her lap, and held them for a moment 
so tightly that she almost cried aloud. 

They had passed out of the narrow crowded 
street into a broad white road, where a sign-post 
directed them to the fort; then came a planta- 
tion of huge trees shrouded with dust, and after- 
wards the way began to run down hill, with the 
ground on either side bare, and split into gaping 
ravines. A sharp turn brought them to the edge 
of the metalling, the pony’s hoofs sank deep into 
a sandy soil, and they found themselves in the 
shadow of the grim towering fort. Leaving the 
trap, they plodded past a collection of squalid 
huts, hardly more than temporary shelters for 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


217 

fishermen, and silently rounded the great red 
walls just as Paul had done so many years ago 
when a little boy. Before them in wide tranquil- 
lity lay the sacred waters glittering in the sun, 
streaked with yellow sand-bars, melting into the 
opal haze of the opposite shore. To the left rose 
the rugged red grandeur of Akbar’s fortress, 
strong against the clear blue of the sky; to the 
right a little white temple had been built on the 
edge of the river bank, with a flight of steps 
leading down to the water. 

A shaven priest in salmon-tinted robes wan- 
dered to the edge of the stream, and with his 
head thrown back he chanted a hymn of praise. 
The curious minor notes echoed across the water 
with a ring of triumphant independence of the 
world, as the words, more shouted than sung, 
were flung into the air. Further along the shore 
there arose a curl of gauzy smoke, showing that 
a cremation was taking place, and the group of 
mourning relatives could be distinguished crowd- 
ing round the funeral pyre. 

Paul and Selma moved on till they reached the 
shrine of the monkey-god. The Baba-jee of the 
old days no longer sat on the edge of the deity’s 
resting-place — he had not lived to see another 
Great Festival; a young, clean-shaven Brahmin 
with a high-caste dreamy face was in attendance, 
and as Paul dropped a silver coin on to the re- 
cumbent red figure of the idol the priest salaamed 
in dignified acknowledgment. Paul made a ges- 


218 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


ture of salute in return, and then, taking Selma's 
arm, he pointed to a tongue-shaped island in 
the near distance, where work of some kind was 
evidently being carried on. 

“ They are preparing for the great religious 
fair already, I think," he said. “ Goring told me 
that all the priests will be quartered on an island, 
and that my work would be down here looking 
after the arrangements. It comes off in Janu- 
ary, and I shall have to superintend details, and 
carry out executive orders connected with the 
building of huts, and the locating of the shops. 
It will be such an opportunity for studying the 
religious thought and feeling of the country, and 
I mean to make the most of it. Fancy two or 
three millions of people all impelled to the same 
spot by a sense of religion — what a wonderful 
atmosphere! How can any one dare to judge it 
from a conventional standpoint? Think of these 
people who three thousand years ago evolved the 
Laws of Manu — one of the grandest systems of 
ethics that has ever been known — remember the 
culture, thought, and philosophy that has lasted 
through all those centuries ! ” 

“ But, Paul," said Selma, rather diffidently, 
“ perhaps it is better for them now to be ruled 
from a Western standpoint; it must mean pro- 
gression for them, and you forget how much 
there is in their faiths that is false and corrupt — 
you must not idealise India too much." 

“ I don't want to," he said quickly, “ but be- 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


219 


hind all the falseness and impurity, behind the 
gross ugliness of that idol, for instance,” point- 
ing to the grinning red figure, “ I see the worship 
of the great invisible forces that regulate the 
world ” 

Selma looked at him half alarmed; his voice 
sounded strange and unnatural. He had taken 
off his hat, and his dark hair fell in rings on his 
forehead. There was an abstracted expression 
in his eyes glowing with a green light, and for 
one moment she traced a resemblance that fright- 
ened her to the young Brahmin priest seated im- 
passive on the edge of the shrine, gazing with 
what seemed to her the same rapt far-away look 
out over the holy river. 

A sudden depression clutched her. She felt 
painfully alone, standing here on the yellow sands 
surrounded with the atmosphere of what to her 
.meant idolatry. She could not follow her hus- 
band’s thoughts — he was as much apart from 
her as if she had been still in England and he in 
India. The East had claimed him from the 
moment of his return ; she could only bow blindly 
to the mysterious power which she was too sensi- 
tive not to recognise, but which she was unable 
to understand. 

From the fort behind them came the tinkle of 
a bell sounding sharply through the peaceful 
quiet. 

Paul turned abruptly. 

“ I am going into the temple,” he said. “ I 


220 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


went in once, I remember, when I was a child. 
Will you come too ? ” 

She shook her head; then held out her hand 
on a sudden impulse. “ Yes, I will,” she said 
desperately. She would follow him in person if 
she could not do so in spirit. 

They walked to the narrow opening in the 
massive walls and entered. But half-way down 
the dark passage Selma stopped. The glimmer 
of oil-lamps ahead showed her the outlines of 
grotesque idols in the niches of the walls; they 
seemed to be watching her with malign amuse- 
ment. At the end of the corridor she could see 
the altar, and on it the great polished stone — the 
symbol of Siva — damp, and shining. Before it 
the shadowy forms of two priests, their almost 
naked bodies white with paint and ashes, sat 
in silent, ghostly contemplation. The air was 
heavy, brooding, sickly with the scent of burnt 
sandal-wood and dying flowers. 

The girl shuddered and turned back. “ I can’t 
go on!” she cried; but Paul continued his way 
alone. She watched his figure merge into the 
gloom, he had made no attempt to lead her on; 
indeed, she knew that he had not even missed 
her from his side. 


CHAPTER XV 

A week later Selma was in her own house. Mrs. 
Goring helped her to engage suitable servants, to 
make out lists of necessaries for her storeroom, 
to unpack her wedding presents ; and offered val- 
uable counsel concerning the many trifles so be- 
wildering to a newcomer, but which go towards 
the whole comfort of Anglo-Indian existence. 
Mrs. Christian was inclined to have “ feelings ” 
over what she termed the meddling of the Col- 
lector’s wife; she was at an uncomfortable dis- 
advantage when in that lady’s superior presence, 
and the probability of encountering Mrs. Goring 
restrained her from visiting her daughter-in-law 
as frequently as she would have liked. So she 
bombarded Selma with slatternly aspirants for 
employment, who skulked in the compound 
and rushed at the “memsahib,” tendering their 
“ chits ” (written characters) and requesting 
service every time she appeared outside the doors. 
When Mrs. Vereker politely intimated that she 
was suited with regard to her domestics, Mrs. 
Christian declared contemptuously that the Gor- 
ings’ head butler must certainly be making his 
fortune out of the Vereker establishment, since 
she knew for a fact that each one of Selma’s 
servants was in some way related to him. 

221 


222 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


“Of course they are!” said Mrs. Goring, to 
whom Selma laughingly repeated the remark. 
“Every native tries to provide for his relations, 
and no native ever does anything for nothing. 
But my old butler comes of a highly respectable 
family, and that was why I told him to find 
servants for you. I don’t think he would let you 
in for any bad bargains. ‘ A devil you know is 
better than a devil you don’t know,’ and if you 
were to engage any of these disreputable crea- 
tures of Mrs. Christian’s they would probably 
have to pay her a percentage on their wages for 
getting them the situation, and you would be 
disgraced by them at every turn. They are not 
‘ sahibs’ ’ servants at all.” 

Selma understood after this why her husband’s 
mother was so keenly anxious also to recommend 
the tradesmen who supplied the Christian family 
— the baker, who brought small discoloured 
loaves of bread and specimens of weird biscuits, 
and could hardly be induced to leave the prem- 
ises ; the confectioner, who proudly produced pink 
and white balls of sugared cocoanut and odd 
brown twirly sweetmeats from a dusty tin box; 
the butcher, an evil-looking Mahomedan with 
a cast in his eye, bearing dark stringy joints of 
goat’s meat. Half -naked men arrived balancing 
on their heads baskets filled with pomegranates, 
limes, oranges, and sticky country vegetables for 
sale, having been directed to the bungalow by 
“ Kristarn memsahib.” A native tailor estab- 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 223 

lished himself in one corner of the verandah and 
demanded immediate occupation, asserting that 
he had been sent from the house of the jail apoth- 
ecary under promise of service with the new 
assistant magistrate's lady. 

Selma gradually contrived to put a stop to this 
kind of annoyance without hopelessly offending 
her mother-in-law, but she was hardly ever per- 
mitted to forget the fact that the Christians were 
her close connections. Cyril, having fully recov- 
ered from his indisposition, spent all his spare 
time in the Verekers' compound. He watched 
and hindered the workmen who were repairing 
the stable and out-houses; he superintended the 
stocking of the garden with flowers and vege- 
tables and appropriated half the seeds ; he loitered 
aimlessly about the servants' quarters; shot at 
the fowls with a little native pellet -bow; pene- 
trated into the kitchen and larder^ and frequently 
helped himself to eatables without permission. 
Whenever Selma heard his shrill voice or caught 
sight of his lank figure she instinctively glanced 
under the furniture, for Cyril thought nothing 
of depositing his white rats, mongoose, squirrels, 
or tame snake in the drawing-room while he 
amused himself outside; and on one memorable 
afternoon his sister-in-law had discovered a 
young pig in her bedroom. 

Old Mr. Jahans would occasionally stroll over, 
supporting himself with his tall bamboo stick, 
and would sit stolidly gazing at Selma with an 


224 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


expression of benign admiration that would have 
been somewhat disconcerting had there been any- 
one else to witness it ; he often brought her little 
gifts, mostly Brummagem rubbish from the 
Parsis’ shops that might have delighted a young 
child; and he actually gave into her keeping the 
Bibi Jahans’ sandal- wood box and its precious 
contents (without any “ coaxing” on her part), 
a proceeding that, had she but realised it, was 
the crowning mark of his esteem and affection. 

Irene, the bride, paid languid visits to Mrs. 
Vereker in the early mornings or late afternoons 
— the intermediate hours she passed in slumber — 
and she usually borrowed as a pattern some arti- 
cle of dress that happened to catch her fancy. 
The things were faithfully returned, but often 
crumpled and spoiled beyond recognition, and 
this fact was sufficiently accounted for when 
Irene one day admitted that though the tailor 
she now employed could copy anything, he was, 
unfortunately, obliged to pick it to pieces first. 

“ But he always sews it up again afterwards,” 
she added reassuringly, having no doubt observed 
the look of dismay on Selma’s face. Mrs. Nor- 
man Jahans not only attired herself in native- 
made replicas of Mrs. Vereker’s clothes, but she 
passed on the patterns to her friends and rela- 
tions, the consequence being that Selma was con- 
tinually meeting grotesque travesties of her pret- 
tiest costumes worn with complaisant triumph 
by half the Eurasian young women in the station. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


225 

Irene lived in secret hopes that Selma would 
eventually take her to the Club, and principally 
for that reason she was overwhelmingly gushing 
and attentive ; therefore, her vexation and disap- 
pointment were not to be concealed when she 
discovered that Selma was not even a member. 

“ Not joined the Club when you would have 
no difficulty ?” she cried, astounded at this non- 
appreciation of such an enviable privilege. For 
to “ get into the Club ” is the Eurasian’s notion 
of complete social success; a parallel to the Royal 
enclosure at Ascot. “ And for why not? ” 

“ I don’t want to,” said Selma briefly. Indeed 
Mrs. Vereker had no intention of mixing in 
Pragpur society. She was unwilling to lay her- 
self open to the chance of slights, real or imagi- 
nary, intentional or otherwise. Most of the sta- 
tion called, partly from curiosity, partly from 
official etiquette, and she returned the visits in 
the evenings when she was practically certain that 
every one would be out. She declined invitations 
and allowed it to be generally concluded that she 
desired to be left undisturbed. She saw much 
of Mrs. Goring and of Mrs. Watson, and she 
was never dull, for her resources in herself were 
many, and she had brought a piano out from 
England. She ordered a weekly consignment of 
books from Calcutta, took in the best magazines 
and reviews, and applied herself to the task of 
enlarging “ Wi’s ” education, for though Mrs. 
Christian was always talking of sending the child 


226 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


to school in the hills she had never yet got beyond 
the contemplation of the plan. The little girl, 
who was precociously intelligent, made rapid 
progress in her reading and writing under Sel- 
ma’s guidance, showed a marked aptitude for 
music and drawing, and consented to keep her 
face and hands and, as far as possible, her clothes 
free from dirt. 

In addition to these occupations Selma began 
to explore the enormous half-caste colony in 
the station, among whom she had discovered, 
through Mrs. Watson, that charity was often 
badly needed. She was appalled at the squalid 
lives led by some of the very poor Eurasians, 
the dirt, the ignorance, the idleness, sometimes 
the deplorable immorality. Freely she gave of 
her sympathy, money, time, counsel. Occasion- 
ally she was rewarded by gratitude and efforts 
at improvement, more often she was baffled by 
the curious falseness of their pride, their want 
of energy and backbone, their morbid dread of 
forgetting the drop of white blood which, far 
from elevating them, was the excuse for their 
ridiculous reluctance to do anything that might 
be mistaken for a form of labour, and kept them 
perpetually on the defensive — an attitude that 
amused Selma intensely when it did not exasper- 
ate her beyond all patience. 

Paul was unconscious of the life of isolation 
that his wife was leading, and she never enlight- 
ened him. He was absorbed in his work, which 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


227 


was heavy, and he spent the greater part of the 
day down by the fort assisting in the preparations 
for the fair, now drawing near. In his spare 
moments he worked with a munshi at the lan- 
guage, though in a surprisingly short time he 
was able to speak Hindustani as fluently as 
though he had never left the country. Selma 
was always ready to listen to his theories and 
arguments, to take an interest in his work, and 
often she accompanied him in the mornings and 
evenings down to the river-bank, though the 
increasing assemblage of pilgrims and holy men 
possessed no attraction for her. She was better 
pleased when Paul drove her to the English ceme- 
tery, where they had ordered a cross to be 
erected to the memory of his father; or when he 
dropped her at the creeper-covered archway of 
an old garden near the river — once the pleasure- 
ground of a Mogul Emperor — where she loved 
to linger in the shade of a group of handsome 
mausoleums that had there been erected to the 
memory of some ill-fated members of the Royal 
House of Timur. She enjoyed the sense of rest 
and peace that seemed concentrated under the 
quiet trees and around the silent tombs — such 
a contrast to the growing turmoil on the sands — 
and she always contemplated with pleasure the 
Arabic inscription on the principal monument, 
translated for her one day by a wandering visitor : 
“ His mighty Soul fills a court of Paradise.” 

She wished that Paul’s love of research had 


228 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


attracted him to the investigation of the Mahom- 
edan religion rather than to the probing of 
Hindu faiths. It seemed lo her more practical, 
clearer, stronger, simpler, and more applicable to 
the daily needs of life. She wondered at his 
eager inquiry into the incredible tangle of Hindu 
creeds and practices ; his impatience for the com- 
parative leisure that would be his after the fair 
was over, when he intended to continue his study 
of Sanscrit (begun at Oxford), which he de- 
clared was the only true key to these mysteries. 
She sometimes feared that she was drifting away 
from his inner life and thoughts. He appeared 
to be as devoted to her as ever; she knew that 
he was passionately grateful to her for volun- 
tarily staying on at Pragpur; he gave her a free 
hand in all money matters, and she could see that 
he was unaffectedly relieved to find her appar- 
ently contented with her life. But she was con- 
scious that her lack of interest in the country 
and its worn-out history, her indifference, or 
rather dislike, to the native element vexed and 
distressed him; and one morning, when she was 
standing in the porch of the bungalow seeing 
him off to his work, he even lost his temper be- 
cause, dazzled by the sun, she thoughtlessly in- 
quired : “ Are those people or natives coming 
along the road ? ” 

She was dismayed at his sudden outburst of 
reproach, and she watched him in silent wounded 
astonishment as he got into the trap and drove 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


229 


away, an angry frown clouding his handsome 
face. Selma expected that he would turn almost 
at once and come back to her remorseful and 
self-accusing, but the vehicle disappeared in a 
cloud of dust without his having even waved her 
a conciliatory farewell, and she went slowly into 
the house with a heavy heart. She glanced 
round the pretty drawing-room, and thought 
vaguely of the day when she had first seen it — 
the dust, the dilapidation, the emptiness. How 
long ago it seemed ! She felt she had lived a life- 
time since that morning. Now there were clean 
bright hangings before the numerous doors, a 
carved screen broke the straight monotonous 
length of the room, and a handsome embroidered 
curtain hid the dining-room from view. There 
were books, pictures, knick-knacks, a writing- 
table with silver accessories, a deep, inviting 
couch piled with various coloured silk cushions; 
there were flowers, sketches, photographs — she 
idly straightened one of the latter framed in 
silver, then picked it up and examined it atten- 
tively. It was one that her father, who dabbled 
in photography, had taken of Bob Jardine in his 
riding clbthes, standing at his horse’s head, his 
whip under his arm, and his favourite spaniel 
lying at his feet gazing up into his face. Selma 
could almost fancy she saw the dog’s tail wag, 
and as she looked at the picture it called up a 
mental vision of a long blue shaft of sunny dust 
penetrating a loose-box. She heard the snuffling 


230 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

whine of puppies struggling in the straw ; listened 
to Bob’s kind manly voice asking her to be his 
wife. She flung the picture down with a stifled 
sob, and went hurriedly to her bedroom. She 
could not remain alone with her thoughts, and 
she pinned on her muslin-covered sun hat with 
trembling fingers, took her large umbrella, and 
started out to visit Mrs. Watson. She had an 
excellent excuse, for she wished to enlist the 
sympathies of the missionary’s wife in the case 
of a young Eurasian girl who was dying of con- 
sumption in the bazaar. It was a fairly long 
walk to the Watsons’ bungalow, but it calmed her 
mind and steadied her thoughts, though she ar- 
rived covered with dust, and longing for a rest 
in the cool clean sitting-room of the mission 
bungalow. 


CHAPTER XVI 


Selma found Mrs. Watson cutting sandwiches 
and tying them into neat packets for the padre, 
who was just starting for the fair-ground. 

“ Such a large number of pilgrims are arriv- 
ing every day now, Mrs. Vereker,” he explained, 
while his wife stuffed the little parcels into his 
coat-tail pockets, “ that I go down every morning 
to the river after my bazaar work, and take my 
stand where I can preach to the people as they 
pass. Yesterday we sold a most encouraging 
quantity of coloured pictures illustrating the 
Bible. The people are ready to listen; they buy 
books eagerly. If I could think it no sin to bap- 
tise all who accept the teaching of Christ as true, 
our list of converts would indeed be a heavy one, 
but so many of them do not clearly comprehend 
that baptism means the absolute renunciation of 
the blackness of idolatry; they wish to worship 
Christ along with their own gods and demons. 
But I do not think the blessed time is far off when 
all these difficulties will be conquered, and we 
shall penetrate the stronghold of the Evil One.” 

“ Remind the padre to eat the sandwiches, 
Abraham,” said Mrs. Watson to the native Chris- 
tian Bible-man, who stood by smiling cheerfully 
through his horn-rimmed spectacles, and clasping 
231 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


232 

a Testament, bound in shiny black American 
cloth, under his arm. 

“Yess, ma’am,” he replied with respect, “but 
the reverend will never listen to any mention of 
food that is earthly.” 

“Nonsense! It is your duty to see that he 
keeps up his strength or he will break down, as 
he did at the last fair-time.” She raised her voice 
and addressed her husband much as if she were 
admonishing a child. “ Remember, John, you 
are not to preach and sing for hours at a stretch 
— you can't do it and live. I shall expect you 
back for some luncheon at two o'clock, and I shall 
have a good meal ready for you because you ate 
no breakfast, and I'm sure you’ll forget the sand- 
wiches. Mind you are not late, there will be 
boiled mutton and turnips.” (“ That is what he 
really likes when he knows what he is eating,” 
she added aside to Selma.) “ Did you hear me, 
John?” 

“ Yes, my dear,” turning over the leaves of 
his Bible and speaking mechanically, “ you said 
boiled mutton and turnips.” His pale blue eyes 
stared absently out of the door as he considered 
how best to deliver his message that morning to 
the idolatrous crowd by the river-side. Then, 
with a kindly nod to the two women, he passed 
down the verandah steps into the compound, the 
Bible-teacher at his side. 

“ Put up your umbrella ! ” called Mrs. Watson 
after the retreating figure. Abraham seized the 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


233 

umbrella from the padre's hand, put it up and 
returned it to its owner, and looked back to 
Mrs. Watson for approval with a self-satisfied 
grin on his dark countenance. 

“ Oh, dear ! ” sighed the little woman, as she 
and Selma turned into the house, “ how I wish 
the fair was over. I always dread this time of 
year. The place fills with fanatics, even some of 
our best converts become demoralised by them, 
and John completely overworks himself. Then 
there is the difficulty about preaching at the fair. 
John has such strong feelings on this point, and 
I am always nervous lest he should cause trouble 
through his zeal. Of late years the Government 
has allotted sites to the various missions on the 
outskirts, instead of allowing them to preach in 
the thick of the fair, because it sometimes led to 
disturbances which, of course, is very undesira- 
ble with such an enormous concourse of people 
to keep in order. I am so relieved each day when 
I see John come back, for I know if a row took 
place he would make no attempt to save himself, 
and you can never tell what the people may not 
be incited to do by these awful fakirs ! Well, my 
dear," she added, changing her tone, and proffer- 
ing Selma a chair, “ have you come about any- 
thing in particular?" 

Mrs. Vereker explained her errand, and Mrs. 
Watson promised what help was in her power. 
“ Though I’m afraid I can't do much," she said. 
“We are sadly in need of more time, more 


234 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

money, and more strength for our own work as 
it is.” 

“ The things one sees and hears amongst these 
half-castes are perfectly dreadful,” continued 
Selma, “ I can’t help wishing that you mission 
people would turn your attention more to them 
instead of expending all your energies on the 
natives — who, after all, seem to disdain our ways 
and our religion.” 

“ Yes, I know there is a vast amount of work 
to be done among them,” said Mrs. Watson 
frankly, “ and if only more people like yourself, 
with means and time at their disposal, would 
voluntarily help them, it would be a grand thing. 
But you must remember that they are supposed 
to be Christians from their birth — either Roman 
Catholic or Protestant — and that a great deal is 
done for them by priests and the chaplains, only 
they are so numerous and their foolish pride 
and laziness makes them so difficult to deal with. 
No, I don’t think we ought to desert the native 
for the half-caste. Our society was founded for 
the conversion of the heathen. We are sent 
forth into foreign lands to teach the natives 
Christianity, and we can only carry on the work 
to the best of our ability.” 

“ But do you really think you make any head- 
way against Hinduism ? ” asked Selma with some 
diffidence. 

“ Undoubtedly,” said Mrs. Watson firmly, 
“ the progress may be very slow, but it is sure. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


235 

At one turn we meet with the greatest encourage- 
ment, at another with bitter opposition; but the 
village people would be easy enough to convince 
of the truth, and are genuinely eager to hear it, 
were it not for the influence of the priesthood. 
With these latter it is difficult to say which of 
their two attitudes is the most discouraging — 
their degraded conception of a higher power, or 
their sublime opinion of their own sanctity and 
immunity from evil. Many of the peasant class 
are inclined to accept in simple faith the Revela- 
tion of Jesus Christ, and gradually whole villages 
are being converted ; but then again, others come 
and profess belief, and when they find that Chris- 
tianity is not synonymous with highly-paid em- 
ployment, they express their doubts and walk 
off. The work is sometimes very hard,” she 
added wistfully, “particularly to practical mem- 
bers like myself; and if it were not for my con- 
viction that our Saviour will triumph in the end, 
I don’t know how I could go on. My dear John’s 
ardour and enthusiasm seem to carry him over 
every difficulty, and my constant fear is that his 
strength will fail him. He is looking so worn 
and fragile now.” 

She wrinkled her forehead distressfully, and 
began to set the room to rights with nervous 
haste. She removed the traces of the sandwich- 
making, pushed the chairs into their places, dusted 
the tables, shook out the thin, dyed muslin cur- 
tains — for she kept the minimum number of 


236 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

servants, and was obliged to do a great deal of 
housework herself. 

Suddenly she stopped and looked at Selma, 
who was leaning back in a low basket-chair. 
“What is the matter with you, my child?” she 
asked with blunt directness ; “ you are thin, you 
have lost your colour, your eyes look heavy — 
are you doing too much amongst these half-caste 
people ? ” 

“ Oh ! I could never do enough,” said Selma 
feverishly. “ I am so sorry for them, and yet I 
can’t bear them, and I often wonder if I shall 
ever do any permanent good. I feel as if it 
were a case of ‘ if seven maids with seven mops/ 
They are so hopeless, and their indolence is al- 
most beyond belief. I suppose it is in their 
nature and they can’t help it, for it is the same 
in all grades. Fancy what my own mother-in- 
law did yesterday when I went to see her — she 
sat and called for a servant at intervals during at 
least a quarter of an hour while she was talking 
to me — I couldn’t think what she wanted and she 
wouldn’t tell me — and when at last the man came 
in she only ordered him to give her a glass of 
water. Would you believe it, the jug and glass 
were actually on a table at her elbow, and yet 
she wouldn’t pour it out for herself? Then this 
morning I asked Irene Jahans to leave a basin 
of soup on her way home for that poor old 
woman who lives opposite the Christians, and 
who, I am afraid, is dying, and all she said was : 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


237 

4 If you like to send one of your men I will see 
that he leaves it, but I could not carry it myself 
in my position/ " 

“ Oh, I know them well ! ” said Mrs. Watson 
with a short laugh. “ But you must not go over- 
doing all your charities, or you will have a 
breakdown. Aren't you going away for 
Christmas ? " 

“We have promised to go to my aunt, Mrs. 
Everard. They are having a camp in the Bata- 
pur district — a shooting party, I believe — and it 
has been arranged all along that we should join 
them. But it seems very doubtful if Paul will 
get the leave; he thinks he won't himself, with 
all this fair work going on." 

“ Then if he can't, you ought to go without 
him," decided Mrs. Watson. “ He will be much 
too busy to have time to miss you, and it will do 
you all the good in the world to see some of your 
own people." 

“ Oh, I shouldn’t go without him." 

Mrs. Watson shook her head and smiled, but 
she little guessed how passionately in her heart 
the girl longed to get away, if only for a week — 
away from the Christians — away from Pragpur 
and the restless atmosphere of the coming fair — 
away (and, in spite of her struggles to ignore it, 
a consciousness of the truth rose insistently in 
her mind) — away from Paul. 

“ Do your people know about the Christians ? " 
asked Mrs. Watson, who possessed a blend of 


238 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

human curiosity in her kindly nature. She was 
now busily preparing the materials for her sew- 
ing-class of native Christian girls. 

“ Not that I know of. I daresay it is cowardly 
of me, and I suppose they must hear it sooner or 
later ; but I can’t tell them. Mrs. Goring wanted 
me to tell the Everards, and Paul himself was 
anxious that we should not try to keep it a secret; 
but I begged him to leave things as they were 
for the present. I have hitherto written all our 
private letters, to save Paul what I could in the 
way of extra writing, and I haven’t mentioned 
the subject of his people. Mrs. Everard has evi- 
dently heard nothing yet. You see, they have 
been in camp on a tour of inspection ever since 
we arrived in India, and I don’t mean to tell her 
until she drags it out of me. What would be 
the good? Nobody can alter the circumstances. 
It would only cause unpleasantness and worry 
Paul.” 

“ But it must come out if you go to your rela- 
tions for Christmas.” 

“ Perhaps. And, to tell the honest truth, I 
should be rather relieved on that account if we 
don’t get the leave — which is disgustingly selfish 
of me. Now, you have got your class to attend 
to — I can see the girls coming across the com- 
pound. I must go.” 

She stooped and gave the missionary’s wife a 
sudden, swift kiss, and the tears stood in her blue 
eyes as she took up her gloves and umbrella and 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


239 

left the bungalow. Mrs. Watson looked after 
her with concern. 

“ That poor girl’s nerves are strung up to snap- 
ping point,” she thought anxiously. “ I wonder 
how much longer she will hold out! It’s a cruel 
situation ! ” 

Paul came back from the fair-ground much 
earlier than usual that evening. He longed to 
make his peace with Selma, for the look of pained 
surprise on her face that morning had haunted 
and reproached him throughout the day. He 
wanted to obtain her forgiveness — to show his 
contrition for his hasty words and behaviour ; and 
therefore he was anything but pleasantly sur- 
prised to find on his return that his mother and 
Mr. Christian were established in the drawing- 
room, having tea with his wife. 

“ Hullo! ” cried Alexander, with jocose famil- 
iarity, not attempting to rise from his chair. 
“ We did not expect you so soon. Selma said 
you would not be back for some long time. But 
I wanted to talk to you on a matter of importance, 
so we waited, and now here you are. How lucky 
that you only found me and Mrs. Christian! 
Suppose we had been two gay young bachelors 
from the regiment ” — he winked at Selma — 
“and you had come home too soon! My! — 
what a kafuffle there would have been ! ” 

“We have been shopping and calling,” said 
Una, fanning herself and speaking peevishly, 


240 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


“ and I am quite tired ! The people at the Eu- 
rope draper’s are such dulls ! I wanted stockings 
for Wi to go with her new pink frock, and 
when I asked for flesh colour, the young man 
gave me tan! I told him he was colour-blind. 
Then there is that Mrs. Lightowler! I called 
on her, and she always upsets me. She is my 
enemy — I know it. I hate her! and she is so 
proud and stuck-up! — just as if she was not 
quite black, though she will not own it! She 
is black all over — except her clothes. Give me 
another cup of tea please, Selma dear; I am quite 
exhausted and worn out.” 

“ What did you want to see me about, Chris- 
tian ? ” asked Paul shortly, paying no heed to his 
mother’s flow of conversation. 

“ Well,” began Mr. Christian; his manner was 
ingratiating, he spread his knees wide apart, put 
his head on one side, and smiled engagingly, 
“you know my capabilities and my position. 
There is a post to be obtained on special duty 
at the fair under the officer for sanitation. If 
you put in a word for me to Mr. Goring, he will 
recommend that I should be appointed, and it 
would get me promotion and recognition.” 

“Yes,” put in Mrs. Christian, and her tone 
was dismally martyr-like, “Alexander, with all 
his talents, has been so badly treated and neg- 
lected!” 

“ I have no influence with Mr. Goring or any 
one else,” said Paul. An uncontrollable recollec- 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


241 


tion of the collector’s warning words made his 
manner harsher and more unapproachable than 
he intended it to be. 

“ But you can mention,” replied Mr. Chris- 
tian with confidence. “ Do not forget that I am 
the very man for the place. Having experience 
of the jail, I know many of the rascals who give 
trouble at the fair-time, and I could warn the 
Government.” The jail apothecary did not add 
that once in a position of responsibility at the 
fair, it would be well worth his while to wink 
at the doings of many of the “ rascals ” in ques- 
tion. 

“ You had better send in an official applica- 
tion,” said Paul. 

“Of course. But these things are brought to 
a successful termination through interest, and 
am I not your own step-father? You tell Mr. 
Goring what I say about the budmashes (ras- 
cals). It is quite true. This will be a very big 
fair, you know, and he cannot find out every- 
thing. If there is a row, it may be a bad one.” 

“I expect the police know their work well 
enough ” — Paul spoke in a dry, incisive voice — 
“and it is out of the question that I should try 
and coerce Mr. Goring for any personal reason. 
I should not dream of it for a moment.” 

“Oh, my!” cried Una, bursting into tears, 
“ and we all thought you were such a gentleman, 
Pahl ! — but you are like all the rest who come out 
from England, you are cruel and selfish, and do 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


242 

not care one pice for your own familee ! If you 
will not do it for Alexander or for me, perhaps 
you will do it for your pretty wife. Selma, you 
ask him ; you are kind and good, surely you could 
not bear to deny.” 

Selma looked helplessly at the dark angry faces 
of Mr. and Mrs. Christian, and then at Paul 
standing sullen and impassive by the mantelpiece. 
A sudden inclination to yield to hysterical laugh- 
ter seized her, but she stifled the unseemly im- 
pulse, though her voice trembled as she answered 
that of course Paul must do as he considered 
right under the circumstances. 

“You too!” said Mr. Christian loudly, “you, 
who with all your fine clothes and grand airs, 
and mimicking mincing manners, never visit with 
the other ladies in the station, and cannot show 
your face at the Club because you spend your 
time in the bazaar with low, common people. 
Oh ! I know the places you go to, nothing is hid 
from Alexander Christian ! ” 

“ Look here ! ” Paul advanced menacingly, 
the Englishman was rampant within him. 
“ Hold your tongue and get out of my house. I 
don’t care whether you are my step-father or not 
— if you were my own father I’d break your neck 
if you said another insulting word to my wife.” 

Mr. Christian’s whole demeanour changed. 
“ Now, now,” he said in deprecation, “ do not 
show violence. I am a poor man and peaceful 
and I do not wish to fight. I am going, and Una 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


243 


too ; we do not stay where we are not wanted.” 
He scuttled to the door, glancing at Paul as 
though in trepidation of a sudden onslaught. 
Outside, the piebald pony was waiting with the 
bamboo cart, and Mr. Christian climbed with un- 
dignified haste into the vehicle. Mrs. Christian 
followed in injured silence, without a word of 
farewell, and once safely out of his stepson’s 
reach the jail apothecary shook his whip and 
shouted spitefully as he drove away, “ You will 
be jolly sorry for this! You wait and see! ” 

Paul stood in the doorway till the sound of 
the wheels had melted into the murmur of traf- 
fic in the roadway. Then he crossed to the low, 
luxurious couch and sat down, his face buried in 
his hands. 

“ Don’t, Paul,” said Selma, and knelt persua- 
sively by his side ; “ don’t be distressed, dear, 
what does it matter what they say or do ? ” 

He raised his head and suddenly kissed her 
with a vehemence of remorse, perplexity, and 
despair. 

“ I’m not fit to touch you,” he said hoarsely. 
“ I’m a selfish beast — all this time you have been 
putting up with these people because they be- 
longed to me ; you are leading a life that is utterly 
unsuited to you, and you never complain. You 
have borne with my moods and tempers— oh! 
when I think of how I spoke to you this morning 
I could hang myself — and you never said a word ! 
Selma, darling, say you forgive me.” 


244 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


“ Of course,” she answered, and at the same 
moment she wondered why her voice sounded so 
unnatural, and why Paul looked so curiously far 
away, “ there is really nothing to forgive.” She 
struggled to her feet and, swaying, clutched at 
her husband’s arm. 

He held her firmly, and gazed into her face 
with distressed anxiety. 

“ Selma ! — you are ill — what is the matter ? 
Why, you are looking thin and white, so differ- 
ent, and I have never noticed it? By God, I 
will take you away! What do I care for India 
or for anything else in the wide world as long 
as you are well and happy ! Dearest — — ” 

“We can’t go away,” she said with trembling 
lips ; “ we must see it through, Paul — you and 
I.” She laughed breathlessly, then began to cry 
with a quiet hopelessness — like a child that has 
unwittingly done wrong. The snapping-point 
had arrived, and in less than half an hour Mrs. 
Vereker was in bed shivering and burning alter- 
nately with a sharp attack of malarial fever, and 
talking nonsense at the top of her voice. 


CHAPTER XVII 


On Christmas eve Sir Robert Jardine rode 
through the village of Batapur with a tired pony 
between his knees, and the dust of a twenty-five- 
mile ride clinging to his person. Behind him 
glowed the evening sky, washed from deepest 
crimson to palest orange by the sinking sun; the 
mists hung low over the swampy land — part of 
an old river-bed deserted by the Ganges — and 
crept up to mingle with the pungent smoke of the 
village cow-dung fires; the damp, chill thickness 
of the atmosphere was pierced every few minutes 
by the harsh, resonant cries of the Sarus birds 
from the neighbouring marshes. 

A little crowd of children and half-grown 
youths followed the rider at a cautious distance 
through the narrow street, for the sight of an 
Englishman was still an event to the inhabitants 
of the remote jungle hamlet which was far from 
any line of rail, and which consisted of little 
more than a collection of mud hovels, redeemed 
here and there by a few better-class buildings 
of small, rough bricks. The chattering group 
followed him to the outskirts of the village, and 
watched him plunge into the dusty cart-track that 
led to where, in the near distance, the white tents 
of the Everards’ camp contrasted sharply with 
245 


246 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

the dark green of a fine old grove of bamboos 
and tamarinds, planted, perhaps, some centuries 
back by a pious seeker after religious favour. 

As Bob rode under these trees he found the 
camp lively with evening preparations. A string 
of horses returning from exercise neighed at the 
sight of the row of buckets containing their sup- 
per of soaked grain, and their open-air stables — 
bamboo stakes surrounded with patches of fresh 
bedding. Fowls were being captured, much 
against their will, and placed in safety from the 
nocturnal prowling of wolves, jackals and foxes; 
the dogs were greedily devouring their food; 
bright fires blazed from the kitchen quarters, and 
from where the mahouts were cooking the ele- 
phants’ evening meal ; and a lamp already burned 
in the large double-poled tent where the dinner- 
table was laid with all the luxurious appointments 
and observances of the most civilised station 
dwelling. Flowers, plate, linen, glass, shone out 
of the open entrance, and the glow of a lighted 
stove at the further end of the tent showed low 
chairs, a couch, convenient tables — and Mrs. 
Everard, clad in a short, khaki-coloured skirt and 
Norfolk jacket, seated, reading a paper, with a 
fox terrier on her lap. Bob walked in unan- 
nounced, confident of his welcome. 

“ Well, this is nice.” Mrs. Everard threw 
down the Field and held out both her hands, 
while the dog rolled to the ground, sleepy and 
resentful. “I thought you couldn’t be here till 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


247 

to-morrow morning yourself, though your man 
has arrived with your things; and your tent is 
all settled, and there’s plenty of hot water. Sit 
down, Bob, and have a peg, you must want one. ,, 
She called to a table servant, and the newly- 
arrived guest was soon provided with whisky and 
soda-water and a choice of cheroots. 

“ How’s the Colonel ? ” he asked. “ Had any 
sport yet ? ” 

“ Oh, the old man is full of beans, but we 
only arrived here yesterday, and he has had no 
shooting yet, for he was obliged to start off at 
once to go and meet my niece, Selma Vereker, 
who, of course, you know. None of us have 
seen her yet since her marriage. They were to 
drive from Patra — thirty miles — and I expect 
them every minute. What a ride you must have 
had over all that boggy country! Did you see 
many birds as you came along ? It seems a splen- 
did year for them, they came in so early.” 

“ I could hear them feeding and dabbling in 
the mud on all sides, and I put up no end of 
snipe. If I’d had a gun with me I should never 
have got here to-night. I heard shots in the 
distance once or twice. Who was out ? ” 

“ Major Barton and little West. They ar- 
rived this morning, and have been shooting all 
the afternoon; they are changing in their tents 
now. Of course two guns couldn’t do much over 
all this chain of jheels, but they brought back 
several snipe, some teal, and a few spotted bills. 


248 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

I hope young Ross will turn up to-morrow, but 
I’m afraid Colonel Prowse is going to throw us 
over. We asked no other women besides Selma 
Vereker ; they are generally such a responsibility 
in camp.” 

“ And Paul ? ” said Bob slowly, staring at the 
fire. He longed to see Selma again, though he 
knew well that the meeting must only renew his 
soreness of heart. 

“ Selma is coming alone, that is why the old 
man went to meet her. I ani sorry Paul couldn’t 
get leave, for I want to make his acquaintance; 
but it seems that the Pragpur fair next month 
means a lot of extra work. At first she wouldn’t 
come without him, but she has had a sharp attack 
of fever lately, and the doctor said the change 
would do her good, so Paul very wisely insisted 
on her coming. He is evidently devoted to her.” 

“ So he ought to be,” said Bob savagely. Mrs. 
Everard looked at him with quiet attention ; then 
she turned away and took up her inevitable knit- 
ting. “ By the way,” she said after a pause, 
“ Selma has never mentioned her husband’s peo- 
ple. I asked her about his mother in one of my 
letters, but, as she forgot to answer the question, 
I conclude they have heard nothing of her, and 
that she can’t be living in Pragpur now. Hark !” 
dropping her knitting, “there they are.” She 
rose from her chair and went to the entrance, 
where the dog was already barking violently. 

Bob remained in his seat. He was dismayed 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 249 

to find himself uncomfortably agitated and nerv- 
ous; his heart was beating quickly, he clutched 
the arms of his chair, and made desperate efforts 
to be calm. The rattle of harness outside and 
the clinking of a tonga-bar came to a sudden 
stop; there was the sound of voices — one so 
painfully familiar to the man who sat biting his 
lips by the fire. The tonga-bar jingled again as 
the ponies were driven off to the stables, and the 
next minute Selma had entered the tent with 
her uncle and aunt. 

As Bob caught sight of her face in the lamp- 
light all his personal perturbation was merged 
into an anxious concern. What had happened 
to her? An attack of fever might have pulled 
her down and would account for her loss of flesh 
and colour, but it could never have caused that 
hint of sadness in her delicate face — that pathetic 
shadow in her blue eyes. Could it be that Paul 
had disappointed her ? That she was not entirely 
happy in her new life? The blood surged into 
Bob’s brown face, and a strange sensation caught 
at his throat as he held her hand in his — a fierce, 
almost primitive desire to work destruction in his 
lady’s cause, mingled with a tender yearning to 
take her in his arms and soothe away her sorrow. 

Selma was weary with the long journey and 
the tedious drive over rough roads and heavy 
ground, and she made no opposition to Mrs. 
Everard’s prompt command that she was to go 
to bed at once and have her dinner sent in to 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


250 

her tent. She was glad to be alone, for though 
she had known that Robert Jardine was to be in 
the camp, she had found the sudden sight of him 
distinctly disturbing. He recalled to her so 
vividly the calm, tranquil existence at the rectory, 
and the time preceding her hasty engagement. 
She was seized with a nostalgia for England 
which depressed and discouraged her., 

Mrs. Everard was also dissatisfied with her 
niece's appearance and the condition of the girl's 
spirits. 

“ There is something wrong," she told the old 
man as they dressed for dinner. “ Selma is not 
like herself." 

“ She’s had fever," said Colonel Everard, “ and 
that's enough to give any one the blue-devils." 

“ Yes, but that is not all — and the worst of it 
is that I’m afraid she won’t tell me or any one 
else what is really the matter. All we can do is 
to give her plenty of rest and good food. She 
must keep quiet to-morrow in spite of its being 
Christmas Day. I’ll stay with her in the morn- 
ing and join the guns after luncheon. She won’t 
mind being left with a book, and the dogs, and a 
comfortable sofa." 

And, indeed, the next afternoon Selma was 
almost thankful to see her aunt’s broad figure, 
mounted on an elephant, disappear through the 
trees, for no sooner had Mrs. Everard concluded 
her housekeeping parade than she had settled 
down with her knitting by Selma’s side, and 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


25 1 

had demanded information concerning Paul’s 
people. 

“ And have you heard anything of your 
mother-in-law ? ” she began. 

Selma had expected this. She knew it was in- 
evitable ; also that it would be impossible to parry 
direct inquiries. So she had made her prepara- 
tions. 

“ Paul’s mother lives at Pragpur,” she said 
calmly, feeling brutal. “ She married again 
many years ago, and she and her husband are not 
exactly of our class. Paul and I accept the 
situation, and make the best of it. I get along 
very well with them.” 

Mrs. Everard gasped, and stared at her niece 
in horrified astonishment. “ My dear girl ! What 
a dreadful thing! Did Paul know it before he 
married you ? ” 

“Of course not, or I should have known it 
too. I don’t pretend that it was a pleasant sur- 
prise to either of us, but there it is. And it 
really doesn’t matter much.” 

“ What class do they belong to ? Who is your 
husband’s step-father?” 

“ His name is Christian — Alexander Chris- 
tian,” said Selma slowly, wondering with a cer- 
tain grim amusement what would happen if Mrs. 
Everard could encounter the gentleman. “ He is 
the district jail apothecary. Paul’s mother was 
a Miss Jahans, and her father is an auctioneer. 
Mr. Jahans is a very nice old man in his way.” 


252 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


“ Good heavens !” Mrs. Everard dragged a 
very large white pocket-handkerchief from a 
capacious pocket and blew her nose with con- 
cerned energy. “ Selma — for mercy's sake don't 
tell me that they are black ! " She dropped her 
knitting in her agitation and distress. Selma 
stooped and picked it up. 

“Well, yes, I suppose they are a little," she 
said, restoring the half-made sock bristling with 
needles and the wall of wool to her aunt’s lap. 

“ But this is awful! What would your father 
say ? What is to be done ? " 

“ Nothing." 

“ Selma, I can’t understand you ! Don’t you 
feel the situation horribly ? Aren’t you unhappy ? 
I knew, directly I saw you last night, that there 
was something wrong." 

“ Dear, please don’t distress yourself," said 
Selma, patting her aunt’s knee ; “ Paul and I un- 
derstand one another, and we want to go our own 
way without any interference however kindly 
meant. Don’t talk about it any more if it bothers 
you, and I would much rather you did not tell 
the uncle while I am with you. I want to enjoy 
my visit, and he would only make a fuss, though 
if I don’t mind the situation I don’t see why any 
one else should." 

“ But I must tell the old man." 

“Then do please ask him to keep the subject 
to himself until I am gone. I don’t want to dis- 
cuss it with anybody." 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


253 

“ Oh, dear!” groaned Mrs. Everard — (and 
Selma felt as remorseful as though she had 
caused pain to a child or an animal for its ulti- 
mate good — she knew how much more troubled 
would the good lady have been could she have 
known the actual truth) — “ Oh, dear! how fright- 
fully unfortunate it is that Paul should have gone 
into the Indian Civil Service! He would have 
been all right at home, and now neither of you 
seem to have grasped in the faintest degree what 
a dreadful position you are placed in.” 

“ Perhaps when we do we shall flee the coun- 
try,” said Selma flippantly. Then she added in 
a low changed tone, “ There is one thing I hope 
you will promise me ” 

« ^ >> 

“ Don't tell Bob Jardine.” 

Mrs. Everard suddenly remembered the ex- 
pression on Bob's face the previous evening, and 
the passionate vehemence in his voice when they 
had spoken of Selma and her husband. 

“ Very well,” she said quietly. 

She had begun to suspect that Selma was wear- 
ing a mask, and that beneath her niece’s appar- 
ently indifferent acceptance of circumstances lay 
the elements of tragedy. Her strong, almost 
masculine nature appreciated the girl's valiant 
reserve, her proud shrinking from pity, her dread 
of sympathy. 

Nevertheless, Mrs. Everard departed to join 
the sportsmen in a very disturbed frame of mind. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


254 

and she only left her niece in solitude because 
she realised that for the moment it was the 
kindest thing she could do. 

Selma settled herself on the couch after her 
aunt’s departure, and took up a novel, but she 
found it impossible to follow the story. How 
could she take any interest in the actions of ficti- 
tious people when her own life’s history was so 
full of difficult situations? She closed the book, 
and gazed dreamily out of the tent door. Two 
mynas were fighting in the dust, springing into 
the air with widespread wings and cheeps of 
rage ; a little further on a white goat was com- 
placently browsing with a large black crow seated 
on its back; the camp was peaceful and quiet, 
and the very stillness made her restless. At last 
she put on her hat and strolled about amongst 
the tents; she fed the horses with carrots, sup- 
plied with indulgent condescension by the Ever- 
ards’ old head-groom; she ventured towards the 
village, but the crowd of interested spectators 
that immediately appeared drove her back to the 
tents; finally, she called the dogs and started 
for a walk along the cart-track behind the 
camp. 

She picked her way by the side of the primitive 
road, avoiding, as far as possible, the dust that 
lay coarse and deep in the ruts and Holes, and 
every few minutes she was obliged to stop and 
call to the dogs, who were in the wildest spirits 
and ready to tear off across country on the least 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


255 

suspicion of any living movement in the low, 
scrubby jungle. Selma began to wish she had 
not brought them, particularly when, a moment 
later, they raised a chorus of excited yelps and 
rushed towards a clump of trees standing some 
distance from the cart-track. Shouting and 
scolding had no effect ; they were deaf to orders, 
and the more Selma whistled and called, the more 
violently and incessantly did they bark. Clearly 
the only thing to do was to follow them. 

The reason for this unruly behaviour was ex- 
plained when it became apparent that the trees 
stood in the middle of a Mahomedan grave- 
yard, now evidently the favourite haunt of a 
troop of brown monkeys, for grinning faces and 
whisking tails flashed from the agitated branches 
and from the domes of the crumbling monu- 
ments. Crowds of little hairy figures crashed 
and chattered and leapt, and flung down bits of 
stick and bark and masonry, which rattled like 
hailstones on the ground. One of the terriers 
kept springing halfway up the trunk of a tree in 
his frantic endeavours to reach a patriarch of the 
tribe, who, with prominent jaws and long, 
pointed teeth, sat glaring from a branch only 
just out of reach. Selma began to feel a little 
nervous. She had heard of monkeys coming 
down in hundreds and attacking dogs and even 
people, and she had almost decided to run back 
to the camp and send the dog-boy to fetch his 
unmanageable charges, when, to her relief, she 


256 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

saw Robert Jardine advancing towards her from 
the direction of the cart-track. She went to meet 
him, wondering at his presence. 

“ The dogs won’t listen to me, and I’m terrified 
of the monkeys. How like you, Bob, to turn up 
just when I wanted help! Why have you come 
back ? — has anything happened ? ” 

“ No, we had a capital morning; but just after 
luncheon I got a spike into my shin right through 
my putties, and it bled like blazes; so when Mrs. 
Everard joined us she insisted on my going back 
and doctoring the place. I didn’t think it worth 
while to go out again, and the servants said you 
had taken the dogs along the cart-track, so I 
changed and followed you. I must have come 
in just after you left. By Jove ! what a row those 
beggars are making, I could hear them all the 
way from the camp. Come here, you ! ” he 
roared throatily to the culprits, and rapped his 
stick against his leather gaiters. The dogs ceased 
their clamour and turned in guilty surprise, then 
one by one they approached, wagging their tails 
apologetically, and trying to look as though they 
had never barked at a monkey in their lives. Bob 
threatened and scolded, and reduced them to a 
condition of abject penitence, and they lay sub- 
missively at his feet watching the monkeys with 
wistful eyes, while he and Selma sat down on a 
solid slab of stone that had covered for many 
years the remains of some faithful follower of 
the Prophet. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


257 

“ You'll be so tired, Selma, if you don’t have a 
rest, you look as white as a sheet now. We’ll 
sit here for a bit. Those beastly dogs will be- 
have themselves now.” 

For a few minutes there was silence between 
them. Occasionally a monkey gave a guttural 
remonstrance from a tree, a flight of green par- 
rots flew shrieking overhead, two grey partridges 
scuttled behind a tall clump of grass and called 
persistently to a friend who answered in the dis- 
tance. The rough tombstone was warm with 
the sun, and as Selma laid her bare hand upon it 
she suddenly thought of the terrace at the Rec- 
tory, and of the night when she had leaned 
against the balustrade persuading herself to 
accept Robert Jardine as her husband. Bob was 
digging a hole in the ground with the point of his 
stick, and she wondered what he was thinking 
about. Presently he looked up, and their eyes 
met. 

“Look here, Selma,” he blurted out impul- 
sively, “ I must ask you something, I can’t keep 
it to myself.” 

“ Well ? ” She looked away from the red- 
brown eyes so full of affection and solicitude. 

“ I may as well say it straight out now I have 
begun. I want to know if you are really as 
happy as you expected to be ? With all my heart 
and soul I hope you are ; and, believe me, I don’t 
ask out of idle curiosity or in any spirit of petty 
jealousy — indeed, I should thank God and be 


258 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

contented if you could look me in the face and 
tell me that there is nothing in your life to 
trouble you.” 

Selma’s heart beat rapidly. Bob was a diffi- 
cult person to deceive, and yet the truth would 
only make him miserable; besides, for her own 
sake, she felt that it would be safer to keep 
silence over her difficulties. If Bob knew now, 
might not his sympathy be more dangerous to 
her than his ignorance? She hastened to an- 
swer, fearing that hesitation, however slight, 
would betray her. 

“ Why should there be anything to trouble 
me? Of course there isn’t! ” 

Bob looked at her searchingly ; she felt her 
cheeks grow red beneath his honest gaze. 

“You are not speaking the truth, Selma,” he 
said gently, “ I know you are not. But if there 
is something you don’t want to tell me, of course 
I respect your reserve. I won’t ask you what 
it is, but oh! my dear, remember one thing — 
that I would give my life for you, and if ever 
I can help you, if ever you want a friend, I 
beseech you turn to me. Selma, will you prom- 
ise? ” 

“Yes,” she faltered, and she battled bravely 
with an infinite longing to tell him everything, to 
claim his sympathy, his advice, his tenderness; 
but it was impossible, she could not do it because 
she knew that Bob loved her more than ever, and 
would love her to the end of his life. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 259 

They sat together for a few moments longer, 
and neither spoke; then, as the warmth of the 
afternoon sun began to give place to the chill of 
the cold weather evening, they rose and went 
back to the camp. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Selma seemed as cheerful as her anxious aunt 
could possibly desire that night at dinner. She 
talked and laughed till the colour glowed in her 
thin cheeks and her eyes regained their old 
brightness. She and Bob and the Everards had 
much home news to compare, and the marriage 
of Lady Jardine and the Rector, which had just 
taken place, to discuss. 

“ Poor Aunt Carrie threatened to break off her 
engagement if I wouldn’t go home and settle at 
Farm Park,” said Bob. “ She thinks the end of 
the world will come if the place is allowed to 
stand empty.” 

“ Fancy clinging to this hole of a country 
when you could stop at home and hunt and shoot 
and fish as much as you liked,” put in Major 
Barton enviously. He was a man who only re- 
mained in India because he could not afford sport 
in any European country. 

“ Well, I don’t know,” argued Mrs. Everard, 
“ I can fancy few more delightful places than the 
neighbourhood of an old Indian river-bed in the 
cold weather, when the ducks are all in and have 
recovered their long journey across the Hima- 
layas. I love pottering along on an elephant 
watching you men squelching through the 
260 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


261 


marshes, hearing the ducks rise in thousands, and 
their different calls as they wheel about over- 
head, and then the heavy splashes when they fall 
shot into the water. Remember one’s feelings 
when the geese come cackling over at twilight — 
it’s equal to anything of the kind that you can 
get in England.” 

“Hear, hear!” cried little West, “you make 
me thirst for the dawn of another day, Mrs. 
Everard. How could Christmas week possibly 
be spent better than within reach of a chain of 
Indian j heels! — and,” helping himself from a 
dish that was being handed to him, “ what could 
be a finer finish to an excellent Christmas dinner 
than fresh trail toast? By Jove! — the snipe here 
are nearly as big as chickens.” 

“ Batapur is a paradise for small game shoot- 
ing,” said Colonel Everard, “ and luckily it’s just 
too far off the rail for Thomas Atkins to be able 
to penetrate and harry the birds. There don’t 
seem to be any other parties out here this year, 
and I believe we have got the whole place to 
ourselves. Are you going to let Selma come out 
with us to-morrow, my dear?” addressing his 
wife. 

“ I don’t think it would hurt her, she looks 
more like herself now she has had a good rest. 
She can come on my elephant with me, and we’ll 
see how she gets on.” 

So the next morning Selma climbed on to an 
elephant’s back for the first time since the visits 




262 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

of her childhood to the Zoo, and found herself 
perched in a howdah with Mrs. Everard. They 
lurched along the outskirts of wide tracts of 
shallow water that were darkened with reeds and 
rushes, they could see the sportsmen in the dis- 
tance and hear the muffled shots, followed by the 
rising of clouds of birds that wheeled off to 
further swamps, only to be patiently pursued. 
(When luncheon time came the whole party gath- 
ered under a group of palms, and the morning’s 
bag was sorted. There were pintail and mallard 
— (the aristocracy of the duck-world) — teal, 
snipe, widgeon, the red-headed pochard with his 
jet-black neck and scarlet head, gadwalls, shel- 
drakes, one or two vulgar shovellers, and an un- 
popular Brahminy duck shot by accident. 

Later on the shooting continued, the men wad- 
ing through the soft marshy soil, t and the air 
seeming to be thick with birds; they were zig- 
zagging against the sky, shimmering over the 
flat country, rising close at hand and in the dis- 
tance, singly, in small companies, and in masses, 
and the various notes of their clamouring cries 
of alarm resounded over the water. At last 
the slanting rays of the setting sun hinted that 
it was time to stop shooting, and the men, hand- 
ing their guns to the attendant natives, climbed 
on to the elephants, muddy, wet, and tired, but 
cheery and satisfied with the day’s sport. 

Mrs. Everard elected to go home on a pad 
elephant for a change, and Bob Jardine took her 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 263 

place in the howdah with Selma. He turned 
sideways in his seat that he might the more con- 
veniently talk to his companion, and he had 
pushed his sun hat back from his brown fore- 
head, showing the edge of his dark red hair. He 
was a very attractive specimen of the well-bred 
healthy British soldier, with his tanned skin, 
chestnut-coloured eyes, bold features, and tawny 
moustache, and Selma looked into the strong 
frank face with a very positive sense of pleasure. 
She was remorsefully conscious that she felt 
happier than she had done for weeks past, but 
she argued with herself that it was only the effect 
of her freedom for the time from the difficulties 
and falseness of her position at Pragpur, that it 
was because she enjoyed the relief of hearing 
nothing about natives except in the character of 
domestics, of never seeing a pilgrim or a holy 
man, of being able, temporarily, to forget the 
existence of the Christians, and the Jahanses, 
and the squalid miseries of the bazaar Eurasian. 

They swung along in the sharpening air with 
the crimson of the sunset staining the miles of 
level country as far as they could see, and they 
talked of the Rectory, of Farm Park, of the 
Rector and Lady Jardine (now Mrs. Neale), of 
the horses and the dogs, of Bob’s regiment and 
his shooting. He pointed out to her the little 
dab chicks, water hens, and coots, running and 
paddling into the shelter of the jheel plants, the 
paddy birds, and the graceful waders, herons, 


264 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

ibis, green shanks, picking their way delicately 
along the water’s edge. 

Then as dusk fell heavily and the swampy 
ground was left behind, the rustling of startled 
animals could be heard in the patches of grass 
and thorn bushes, above the regular padding 
swish of the elephant’s footsteps; while the 
clanging cries of the cranes and geese in the 
distance rang through the still air from over the 
cold, quiet sheets of water. 

The ten days in camp passed quickly and 
happily for Selma; she loved the long, bright 
hours in the open, the picnic luncheons, the 
leisurely rides home on the elephants, the cheery 
evenings when “ Little West ” made music on his 
banjo, and they played cards and told stories — 
and she realised with a feeling of almost painful 
regret that her last day in the camp had come. 
Colonel Everard was obliged to continue his cold- 
weather tour of inspection, and though he and 
Mrs. Everard pressed their niece to accompany 
them, Selma refused; she felt that her place was 
with Paul during the coming stress of the fair- 
time. When that was over she knew that the 
question of their future plans would have to be 
decided, and she dreaded the crisis. It would be 
hard to hold out against Paul’s desire to remove 
her from the disagreeables of her life at Pragpur, 
and yet how could she accept from him the 
sacrifice of his pride if they went to another prov- 
ince, and of his enthusiasm if they left India 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 265 

altogether? Besides — and she shrank mentally 
from the thought — wherever they went, could 
she ever school herself to overcome her repug- 
nance to the fact that Paul belonged — not only 
in body but in soul — to India? 

On this last morning she tried to put all 
thought of the future from her mind, as the ele- 
phants strode in single file through the narrow 
village street, where the flat roofs, hardly higher 
than the howdahs, were crowded with an excited 
audience, who commented shrilly on the pecul- 
iarities of “the Feringhees” they passed. The 
spirits of the shooting party were more than 
usually lively, tinged, as it would seem, with that 
desire to make the most of every moment, which 
may be noticed when “ a good time ” is drawing 
to a close, and an inevitable dispersion of pleas- 
ant companions is at hand. On they went through- 
the open country, followed by groups of servants 
carrying guns, cartridges, and game sticks, till a 
swamp was reached, when the men descended 
from the pads and howdahs and a few couple of 
snipe were killed. Then a dry tract of low jungle 
was traversed in a successful beat for quail, 
black partridge, and hares; and when at last a 
shallow, sandy watercourse barred the way, a 
halt for luncheon was called. 

When it was time to start once more, Mrs. 
Everard made the first move. 

“Now, then, wake up all of you,” she said 
briskly, rising, and shaking the crumbs from her 


266 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


lap ; “ remember, we’ve got to cross this stream 
and work around by the j heels before dark, and 
we shall only just do it. You people are like 
natives, you have no sense of the value of time." 

“ If I wasn't such a perfect gentleman," mur- 
mured Mr. West, who was lying full length on 
the ground smoking a cigarette, “ I might say 
damn." 

“ I value nothing but my cheroot and my 
digestion at the present moment," protested 
Major Barton lazily. “ You shouldn’t bring out 
such royal luncheons, Mrs. Everard. I want to 
go to sleep. If I snore please wake me." 

“ If I snore," said little West, “ please don’t 
wake me." 

The Colonel got up stiffly. “ I am not going 
to walk across that nullah — down one steep bank 
and up another," he said. “ Could you do it. 
Barton ? " 

“ I could,” replied the Major, “ but I shan’t.” 

“ Get on the elephants then, you lazy wretches,” 
cried Mrs. Everard. “Let them go on ahead, 
Selma, and just help me pack up this basket like 
a devoted niece. Mr. West," she called presently 
to the last straggler, as the men sauntered off to 
the waiting elephants, “ have you such a thing as 
a piece of string in your pocket? Nothing will 
induce the lid of this basket to shut.” 

“ My pockets are empty,” said Mr. West, look- 
ing back with airy impudence, “except for my 
handkerchief, which I couldn’t spare, and my 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 267 

pride, which I always keep there.” And he con- 
tinued on his way, heartlessly indifferent to the 
struggles of his hostess with the refractory bas- 
ket-lid. Therefore, Selma and her aunt were not 
able to start till the others had reached the op- 
posite side of the watercourse and were again 
on their feet. 

“ Now where on earth does this man think he’s 
going to ? ” said Mrs. Everard, peering over the 
side of the howdah as the mahout guided their 
elephant further down the bank. “ What are you 
doing ? ” she added in Hindustani, touching the 
man with the point of her umbrella. “Why 
don’t you cross where the others did ? ” 

The native explained that the bank was less 
steep further along, and that he could take the 
elephant across over a patch of sand without 
jolting “ the memsahibs.” 

“ What a thoughtful person ! ” said Selma. 

" I don’t know,” replied her aunt drily. 
“ When a native begins to think he generally does 
the wrong thing. Probably he will get us into 
some tiresome difficulty, but I suppose he must 
be allowed his own way.” 

The elephant seemed strangely unwilling to 
take the route chosen for him by his mahout, and 
for some moments he backed, and shuffled side- 
ways, while his driver abused him hoarsely and 
jabbed him with the heavy iron driving-hook. 
A shout from the opposite bank made them turn 
their heads; one of the other mahouts was trying 


268 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

to attract their attention and was pointing ex- 
citedly to the smooth strip of sand on to which 
the elephant had just reluctantly placed his feet. 

“ Stop ! ” cried Mrs. Everard to their own 
man, and her voice was full of alarm. “ Stop, 
you fool — it’s a quicksand ! ” 

The mahout suddenly realised the danger, and 
with violent blows and shouts of command he 
tried to turn the elephant. But it was too late, 
the sand on every side quivered and undulated, 
the animal sank up to his knees and trumpeted in 
terror. The natives on the bank called and 
gesticulated, the sportsmen who had already 
walked on ahead turned and came running back. 
The Colonel shouted to his wife to make Selma 
keep her seat: he was sure of Mrs. Everard’s 
nerve, but he feared that the girl might jump. 
However, she sat still, though her pulses throbbed 
with apprehension, and she held Mrs. Everard’s 
hand tightly in her own. The elephant rolled 
from side to side in its desperate struggles to 
gain a footing, and the mahout was crying and 
babbling like a child ; the next moment he sprang 
up with a yell and scrambled into the howdah, 
and Selma saw the long black trunk of the 
elephant feeling along the empty seat — the man 
had only just escaped being dragged off and 
trampled into the sand. On the bank bushes, 
boughs, and grass were being cut with frantic 
haste, and soon bundle after bundle was thrown 
to the floundering, exhausted animal for a foot- 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 269 

in g, until at last with a final mighty effort the 
great beast heaved itself up, and slipping, 
trembling, faltering, reached comparatively safe 
ground. 

Selma could never afterwards remember ex- 
actly what then happened. She had a confused 
recollection of the elephant being made to kneel, 
of seeing Mrs. Everard climb out of the howdah 
from one side into the middle of an agitated 
group of people, and of her own descent from 
the other towards a solitary figure that stood 
between the elephant’s bulk and the shelving 
bank, holding out strong, eager arms to catch 
her. She looked up into Bob Jardine’s face; it 
was white with relief and emotion, and in his 
eyes flamed uncontrollably the love he might not 
utter. For a moment she w r as in his arms, for a 
moment she allowed herself to realise that her 
old conviction had been a true one — that Bob Jar- 
dine was the man she ought to have married. 
Then she drew away from him, the elephant got 
up, the rest of the party crowded round, and Bob 
stood apart looking over the stream in silence. 


CHAPTER XIX 


In the fading sunshine of the late afternoon the 
train by which Mrs. Vereker was travelling back 
to Pragpur rumbled slowly over the great iron 
bridge that crossed the river. The third-class 
compartments were densely packed with pilgrims, 
who simultaneously raised the fervent cry of 
praise, “ Victory to Mother Gunga,” as they 
found themselves above the holy waters. Look- 
ing from the window of her carriage Selma could 
see the fort, red, massive, inveterate, with a sea 
of human beings surging at its base : the fair had 
begun — and she listened to the distant hum of the 
multitude, the harsh braying of conches, the 
ceaseless ringing and beating of bells and gongs; 
all along the river’s edge bathers were moving in 
and out of the water, and swarming on to the 
little temporary platforms erected by the Brah- 
mins, who were busily conducting their clients 
into the sacred stream, or assisting them out of it. 

Selma speculated as to Paul’s whereabouts on 
the fair-ground; she hardly anticipated that he 
would be at the station to meet her, and she was 
not surprised to find only their head peon, who 
forced a way for her through the crowd of pil- 
grims that poured out of the train on to the 
platform. How they pushed and clamoured and 

270 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 271 

struggled, all so eager to reach the healing river, 
to join in the great religious festival! 

It was almost dark when she arrived at the 
bungalow; a solitary lamp had been lighted in 
the drawing-room, and the place betrayed the 
neglected, unlived-in appearance which is gen- 
erally the result of “ the memsahib’s ” absence. 
The atmosphere was stuffy, the furniture seemed 
to have backed against the walls, there were no 
flowers, and the books and ornaments were stiffly 
set out. Selma could not resist the inclination to 
right things immediately; she shook up pillows, 
pushed tables and moved chairs, called the bearer 
and scolded him about the dust, and rearranged 
the knick-knacks; but — when she altered the 
position of the silver frame containing Bob Jar- 
dine’s photograph she purposely refrained from 
looking at it, and answering to an inward prompt- 
ing she carried it, face downwards, to her writ- 
ing-table and put it away in an empty drawer. 

She interviewed the head table servant, ascer- 
tained what he had provided for dinner that 
night, and inquired if the sahib had been well 
during her absence. The man entered into a long 
explanation, most of which Selma was unable to 
understand, for her knowledge of Hindustani, 
though she took infinite pains to pick up the 
language, was still very limited; but she gath- 
ered that her husband had been working very 
hard, had been out early and late, had sat up at 
night over his books, and had not done justice to 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


272 

the excellent catering of his humble servant the 
khansamah. This made her feel anxious ; Paul’s 
letters had been hasty and impersonal, he had 
never mentioned his health, and now she feared 
that he had not been taking sufficient care of him- 
self, and she felt remorseful for having left him 
to solitude and work while she had enjoyed the 
camp at Batapur. She went out into the veran- 
dah to listen for the sound of his returning trap, 
and as she stood in the shaft of lamp-light that 
shot out from the drawing-room, straining her 
sight and hearing, a figure suddenly emerged 
from the darkness, and “ Wi ” Christian stood 
before her, panting and dishevelled. 

“ Ah ! you have come back,” cried the child, 
in the shrill staccato tones that Selma had been 
so thankful not to hear during the last ten days, 
“I have come running, running, in all the dark, 
not even taking a lantern or any one to protect 
me, that I might fetch you to our place.” 

“ Why ? What has happened ? ” And Selma 
drew the little girl into the lighted room. 

“ My grand-pappa Jahans — he is dying. And 
he cries for Selma! Selma! Oh! come quickly 
or he may not be alive. Mamma and pappa, they 
would not send for you or for Paul — they hate 
you now and they said they would not tell you, 
and Cyril he was afraid of the dark. I was afraid 
too, but I ran and ran, I could not bear that my 
grand-pappa should not say ‘ Good-bye ’ to you 
when he wanted so badlee ! ” She was trembling 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


273 

all over and the tears streamed down her little 
brown face. 

Selma did not hesitate. She called for a man 
to bring a lantern, and in a few minutes she and 
Violet were rapidly following the light along the 
dusty road; they had gone some considerable 
distance before she remembered that she had left 
no message for Paul, and she stopped suddenly 
in vexation and doubt. 

“ He will wonder where I am ; and he ought 
to know about his grandfather — he ought to see 
him.” 

But the child urged her forward with impa- 
tience. 

“ No, no, Paul does not mat-ter — they do not 
want him, or you — but I called you because of 
my grand-pappa, and if we do not make haste 
they will ask where I have been, and then my 
father will give me put-put” (a slapping). 

They hurried on and Selma consoled herself 
with the reflection that Paul could be sent for 
when she arrived. They found the house in con- 
fusion; the servants were lurking in the veran- 
dahs, lights shone from every opening, and, in- 
side, Una sat at the rickety round table in a loose 
dressing-gown crying noisily, with Irene and the 
children huddled about her. Through an open 
door Selma caught sight of the dark face of old 
Mr. Jahans, with its crown of white hair, moving 
restlessly on a dingy pillow. 

“You!” ejaculated Mrs. Christian, as Selma 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


274 

came towards her. “We do not wish for your 
company. Why did you come ? ” 

Vi pulled a warning at her skirt, and Selma 
evaded the question. 

“ I had just got home,” she said, “ and I heard 
that Mr. Jahans was ill, so I came to see if I 
could be of any use.” 

“ No, you cannot be of any use. Alexander 
says that he will soon be dead — to-night most 
likely — and then I shall be an orphan!” Mrs. 
Christian wept afresh. 

“ Paul ought to know ; won’t you let me send 
for him ? ” persuaded Selma. “ He had not come 
back from the fair when I left, but I was ex- 
pecting him every moment. I have a man with a 
lantern outside who could take a note.” 

Una shook her head. “ We do not wish” she 
said with sullen obstinacy. 

Thinly from the other room came a feeble call : 
“ Selma, where is Selma? I need her.” 

“ May I go in to him ? ” she asked. 

Mrs. Christian waved her hand towards the 
open door. “ Goh ! ” she said indifferently, and 
Selma entered the sick room. 

It was crowded with heavy teak-wood ward- 
robes and long cane chairs, and was evidently 
shared by other members of the family, for two 
beds were placed parallel with that of Mr. Jahans 
in the centre of the room. On one of them sat 
Alexander Christian watching his father-in-law. 
He rose with a mutter of surprise when he saw 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


275 

Selma, and stalked past her with pompous dig- 
nity. Norman and Ulick were standing at the 
head of their father's bed, and they at once en- 
tered eagerly into particulars of his illness. 

“ He was too much in the sun yesterday, and 
he conducted a sale himself this morning — he is 
too old, you know. Then he came back and 
smoked his hookah; but he said he felt seedy, 
and then he fell down in a fit. Now he is dying." 

“ Oh, hush ! ” said Selma ; “ don’t, he can hear 
you ! Have you sent for the doctor ? ’’ 

“ Send for the doctor when there is Alex- 
ander ? ’’ they chorused. “ My brother-in-law is 
a physician ! There is no more that any one can 
do — this is a very old man, and he cannot live 
for ever." 

Selma approached the bedside and bent over 
the restless, muttering form. “Mr. Jahans?" 
she said gently. 

He looked up into her face for a moment with 
a vacant stare, then smiled, and put out his 
wrinkled hand with a painful effort; she clasped 
it in hers, which seemed to soothe and satisfy 
him, for he lay quiet, but presently he pointed to 
his sons and then to the door. 

“ Perhaps he wants to be alone with me for a 
few minutes," said Selma apologetically, and the 
two men went out of the room in apathetic 
acquiescence. 

She sat waiting patiently for the words that 
fluttered on the dying lips; the air of the room 


276 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

was close and unwholesome; outside in the ve- 
randah the myna, disturbed by the lights and the 
unusual movements, began to chatter excitedly; 
and Cyril’s mongoose was running round the 
walls of the bedroom with pattering feet and 
little chirruping noises. 

“ You came when I needed,” whispered Mr. 
Jahans, “ you have always been kind to the old 
man and patient with us all; but now they hate 
you.” His eyes turned slowly to the door. 
“ Alexander has talked and talked, till now Una 
thinks like him, and when I wanted to see you 
they refused to send ” He stopped, ex- 

hausted, for even in health this would have been 
a long speech for Mr. Jahans to make. His face 
looked ghastly in the light of the single wall lamp, 
and his eyes had sunk deep into his head. 
“ Water ! ” he said feebly in Hindustani. 

Selma put her arm under his neck and raised 
his head ; he drank feverishly from the enamelled 
iron cup that she took from the bedside table and 
held to his lips, and then he sank back on to the 
pillow. She feared that the end had come, and 
she was about to call Mrs. Christian when he 
began to speak again in a low murmuring voice. 
He babbled of his wife, of his mother the old 
Bibi Jahans, of Paul as a little boy ; then he 
fancied he was conducting a sale, and his thin 
fingers beat on the bed-clothes. Once Mr. Chris- 
tain came to the door and stood watching and 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


277 

listening with his hands in his pockets, but when 
Selma looked up he turned and went back into 
the sitting-room. Presently the old man raised 
himself, the low chattering ceased, and he 
clutched at Selma's arm. 

“Tell Paul to go," he stammered hoarsely, 
“ tell him to take you back again across the black 
water, to take you away from this country and 
from his people. At first I was proud when I 
knew he had come back, and when I saw you, 
his pretty wife; but now, like all people that are 
going to die, my eyes are open, and I can see 

nothing but trouble — and tears — and death ” 

His breath failed, and he struggled distressingly. 

Selma held the water to his lips again, but he 
could not swallow. 

“ Another thing," he whispered, almost in- 
audibly, “ perhaps there will be mischief at 
the fair. Alexander — he knows — he could 

warn ” He stopped abruptly, his head fell 

forward, and the utter stillness that followed 
was sad in its significance. 

At Selma's hasty call the whole family flocked 
into the death chamber. Una uttered a succes- 
sion of piercing shrieks, Irene had hysterics, the 
children howled in sympathy, and through the 
hubbub the shrill whistling of the myna cut 
sharply. 

Selma touched Mr. Christian on the shoulder: 
“ I am going," she said coldly, “ but first I want 


278 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

to speak to you — come into the sitting-room, 
please.” 

He looked for a moment as though he meant 
to refuse with defiance, but her steady gaze held 
him, and he followed her unwittingly, away from 
the noisy lamentation in the bedroom. 

“Well?” he said disagreeably, as they stood 
facing one another on either side of the round 
table on which stood a black bottle and some 
long tumblers, “ what did the old man say to you, 
h’n?” 

“He said that there might be trouble at the 
fair, and that you knew about it. You must tell 
me at once what he meant.” 

“ How should I know what he meant ? An 
old man just dying and behosh (delirious), who 
would at-tend to his words ? ” He poured out a 
liberal quantity of the cheap bazaar spirit and 
drank it, regarding her with cunning over the top 
of the glass. 

“Listen to me,” she said, though she felt a 
practical conviction that appeal was useless, “if 
you possess information of any trouble that is 
brewing I implore you to tell me what it is that 
I may warn my husband.” 

“Oh! yess! you think if there is disturbance 
then there may be blame for him ; but if he could 
say ‘ See ! from my own relations I have dis- 
covered this plot, and could prevent/ then there 
would be praise and promotion for Pahl Wer- 
eker, Assistant Magistrate! Whatever happens, 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


279 

Alexander Christian, who is only the jail apothe- 
cary, he is to get nothing, h’n ? ” 

“ Then if there is anything to tell, which I am 
inclined to doubt, you refuse to speak?” She 
could hardly control her fury and disgust as she 
looked at the man standing smiling and inso- 
lent before her. “ Remember that if anything 
happens the Government shall know that you 
held your tongue when you might have warned 
them.” 

“ First you would have to prove that I knew 
anything to tell ! ” he answered, with an exas- 
perating laugh; and as Selma went from the 
house in angry despair he stood in the doorway 
and chuckled maliciously. 

She was very weary when she got back to her 
own bungalow; the long day in the train, pre- 
ceded by the tedious drive from Batapur to the 
station, had given her a headache; the death of 
old Mr. Jahans and the scene through which she 
had just passed had tried her nerves severely, and 
the uncertainty as to whether Mr. Christian did 
or did not possess knowledge of impending 
trouble at the fair caused her acute uneasiness. 
She stumbled blindly up the verandah steps, 
while the man with the lantern hurried round to 
the servants' quarters eager for his belated even- 
ing meal, and when Paul moved forward out of 
the shadow and laid his hand on her arm 
she started, all unnerved as she was, and 
screamed. 


28 o 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


“ Why, Selma,” said Paul, half laughing, half 
alarmed. “ Where have you been ? what is the 
matter with you ? ” 

“ Oh ! ” she cried and shuddered involuntarily, 
“ for a moment I thought you were a native ! ” 
She followed him into the lighted drawing-room, 
but she still trembled, and as she stood looking 
into his eyes, with his arm about her, and his face 
bent to hers, she found herself struggling horri- 
bly with a desperate and unexpected sense of re- 
vulsion. He had not changed his clothes and it 
seemed to her that he smelt like a native, indeed 
it was probable that he did, from having mixed 
throughout the day with the crowd at the fair, 
but to her excited imagination the strong spicy 
odour belonged to him personally, and she 
thought that he resembled more than ever the 
young Brahmin priest at the shrine of the Hanu- 
man. By sheer effort she prevented herself from 
running back into the dark verandah, away from 
his touch, away from his eyes; she felt that her 
moral courage was deserting her, that her sense 
of duty, her loyalty to the man she had chosen 
as her husband, her desire to do the best by her 
life’s responsibilities, were all slipping beyond 
her reach. In the realisation of her own help- 
lessness she drew her breath sharply between 
her teeth as though she had received a physical 
hurt. 

“ I have just seen poor old Mr. Jahans die,” 
she said unsteadily. “ He was only taken ill this 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


281 

morning, and I suppose I was upset, you startled 
me coming out of the shadow so suddenly — and 
I was afraid — I mean I thought — I didn’t know 

who it was ” She shr,ank from him almost 

perceptibly. 

Paul made no comment on the news of his 
grandfather’s death, indeed he had scarcely no- 
ticed the words, but his arms dropped to his 
sides, and his face grew set and haggard, for, all 
at once, looking at his wife, listening to her 
voice, he had perceived as though by mental 
flashlight the abhorrence in which she held his 
Oriental blood. 

He made no sign of his impression, or of the 
cold despair that fell upon him, only he moved 
away that he might not touch her again, he so 
dreaded to see her shrink and shiver; and in 
his ordinary voice and manner he asked her 
about her visit and her journey, insisted that she 
should eat and drink, listened to her account of 
old Mr. Jahans’ illness and death, agreed that it 
would be better, under the circumstances, not to 
force his presence on the Christians, and soothed 
her suspicions with regard to Alexander’s insin- 
uations. 

“ It’s all nonsense, the fellow was bluffing,” 
he said reassuringly. “ I’ve no doubt he boasted 
and bragged to his own people, and of course he 
was anxious to give you the impression that he 
held a trump card, but even if a disturbance is 
brewing the police are strong enough to cope 


282 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


with it and manage the people. Anything in the 
shape of a riot could be put down at once.” 

“ I am so afraid he knows there is going to be 
a row and won't warn you, because he thinks he 
owes you a grudge about that appointment,” said 
Selma doubtfully. 

“ If I had tried to get it for him a hundred 
times over it would have been no use, and he 
knows it, or he ought to. I assure you the fair 
people are all quite orderly and well behaved, 
there is nothing whatever to fear from them or 
from the priests. To-morrow is the big day when 
the fakirs march in procession to bathe, and I 
haven't the least doubt that it will all go off as 
quietly as possible. By the way, Mrs. Goring 
suggested that you should go on an elephant 
with her and see the fair at its height; she is 
coming to ask you about it in the afternoon. If 
I thought for a moment that anything was likely 
to happen I should tell you to stop at home : you 
mustn’t worry, dear; go to bed, and go to sleep, 
you are quite worn out. Don’t wait up for me, 
I have some work I want to finish ” 

Far into the night, while Selma slept, Paul sat 
at his office table staring before him in dumb 
trouble; it might be that Selma's feeling of 
aversion was more abstract than individual; he 
hoped it was, but he knew now that even though 
he should get a transfer to another province, 
though he should take her away from India 
altogether, though he should devote to her his 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 283 

whole being — this must always stand between 
them. Of what avail to speak and argue the 
matter? No amount of reasoning could make 
any difference; the gulf lay between them for 
ever, wide, impassable; it would be best to look 
across it in silence. 


CHAPTER XX 


When Selma awoke the next morning she found 
that Paul had already started for the fair ; he had 
given orders that she was not to be disturbed, 
and she had slept late. Now she rose rested and 
refreshed, with the dark depression that had 
clouded her mind the previous evening lightened 
almost to dispersion. 

She ordered a ticca-gharry after breakfast and 
drove to the Christians’ bungalow. She did not 
mean to turn her back on Paul’s relations how- 
ever badly they might have behaved, and she 
intended to suggest that Vi and the younger chil- 
dren should come to her until after the funeral 
of their grandfather was over; but when she 
reached the house she found as much bustle and 
excitement in the atmosphere as though a 
wedding were in prospect. Groups of hired 
vehicles were waiting in the compound, knots of 
people were standing in the verandahs, and dis- 
appeared hastily as Selma drove up ; loud chatter- 
ing came from the interior, and Mrs. Vereker 
had begun to contemplate abandoning her visit 
when “ Wi ” came running out clad in a black 
jacket of her mother’s which concealed the red 
merino frock, and with a piece of black crepe 
twisted round her sun-hat. She was in a state of 
284 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 285 

flurry and agitation, and informed her sister-in- 
law with shrill rapidity that all the relations and 
connections of the family were in the house, and 
that the funeral was to take place the following 
day. “ And there will be such a crowd ! ” she 
added, with gratified pride, “ we are all going ! ” 

“ Would your mother care to see me, do you 
think, Vi ? Run and ask her.” 

But Mrs. Christian returned an ungracious 
message, without doubt dictated by Alexander, 
whose voice Selma could hear above all the noisy 
tones of the rest of the company, that “she 
would see no more at present,” and taking the 
hint Mrs. Vereker drove away with considerable 
relief, affecting to be unconscious of the furtive, 
peeping faces that had crowded to the doors and 
windows. 

Early in the afternoon Mrs. Goring arrived in 
her bamboo cart at the Veters’ bungalow, and 
announced that she had come to take Selma down 
to see the fair. 

“ No, I won't come in,” she said ; “ you go and 
put on your hat and we’ll be off at once. We 
can have a bird’s-eye view from the fort walls, 
and then go into the crowd on an elephant with 
my husband. It will be rather worth seeing for a 
short time. How are you after your change? 
All the better? You look a little fagged — from 
the long journey yesterday, I suppose.” 

Selma hesitated. She had no particular wish 
to see the fair, but she thought that Paul might 


286 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


be pleased if she went and could talk over the 
events of the “ big day ” with him in the evening, 
so she finally agreed. During the drive she told 
Mrs. Goring about Mr. Jahans’ illness and death, 
but she made no mention of the old man’s warn- 
ing and Alexander’s hints. It would have en- 
tailed an explanation of Mr. Christian’s attempt 
to persuade Paul into coercing Mr. Goring for 
his benefit, and Selma felt that this would give 
her companion every right to think, even if she 
refrained from uttering, that most exasperating 
of sayings, “ I told you so.” 

“ Poor old man,” she added, “ I shall really 
miss him, for he was the only one of the lot, 
except perhaps Vi, with whom I had any sym- 
pathy. I went there this morning to see what 
I could do to help them, but I found I was not 
wanted, and my good intentions were wasted.” 

The road as they neared the fort was covered 
with people, and progress was unavoidably slow. 
Many pilgrims had commenced the return jour- 
ney, being unable to spare the time from their 
farms and villages to wait for the crowning cere- 
monies and to see the great day through; these 
carried, slung from their shoulders, baskets in 
which were packed green glass bottles contain- 
ing the holy water of the Ganges, that they 
might convey the precious liquid to their homes 
for the cure of disease, the forgiveness of sin, 
for use in forms of worship and sacrifice, and 
for the benefit of the dying. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 287 

Selma was struck by the expression on the 
faces of the departing pilgrims in contrast with 
the look of those who were still on their way to 
the river; the one denoted peace, satisfaction, the 
sense of accomplishment of purpose — the other 
strained anxiety, eager expectation, an utter 
disregard of everything but the desire of 
achievement. She remarked on it to her com- 
panion. 

“ Yes,” replied that unromantic lady, “ the pil- 
grims who are returning imagine that they are 
purified in body and spirit, and that their sins are 
washed away; yet even on the way home they 
will lie and cheat and push each other out of the 
best places in the train, and commit their old 
transgressions all over again. With the ordinary 
native, religion has nothing to do with conduct; 
he performs these ceremonies to propitiate the 
gods and protect himself from misfortune; he 
may be a criminal of the deepest dye, a thief, a 
murderer, a swindler, and yet remain so holy as 
to be almost a saint.” 

The crowd grew denser, the dust was suffocat- 
ing, for as yet no cold-weather rains had come to 
satisfy the dry earth. As they approached the 
fort they passed a tent belonging to an American 
mission, where a man with flowing beard and 
large sun-hat was handing pictures and tracts to 
the passers-by and crying aloud against the 
blackness of idolatry and superstition, while be- 
hind him his wife energetically plied a portable 


288 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


harmonium, and two or three assistants sang 
hymns with fervour. 

The two ladies entered the fort by the great 
gate which was well away from the pilgrims, and 
a few minutes later they emerged on to the ram- 
parts. Selma looked down upon a scene that 
made her wonder: she was gazing over the spot 
where in countless ages past, according to the 
orthodox Hindu, the mighty Vishnu had sat and 
meditated, and where now a solid mass of people 
covered the river-bank for nearly a mile; most 
of them were clothed in spotless white, but occa- 
sional splashes of colour, blue, green, red, varied 
the monotony; the gay triangular flags of the 
Brahmins, with their different devices, flapped 
and floated in the gentle breeze, and their canvas 
booths and light umbrellas of cane and leaves 
lined the shore. In the middle of the throng 
below the fort walls a track was kept clear for 
the fakirs’ processions, which had been crossing 
the bridge of boats from the island and winding 
down to the river’s edge since daybreak ; and on 
either side of the narrow space two streams of 
figures came and went incessantly, the one mak- 
ing for the water, the other returning from it, 
and the din that rose on the dry air was like the 
restless roar of a city. 

It seemed almost unreal to be viewing from 
these high red walls a scene that had been en- 
acted year after year for many centuries, and 
that was now as much alive with religious belief 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 289 

and enthusiasm as it had been two, or perhaps 
three, thousands years ago. As Selma watched 
the seething concourse of human beings, and 
listened to the ceaseless clamour of prayer and 
praise, she felt a dim understanding of the spell 
of this wonderful country that had laid so strong 
a hold upon her husband ; and a sense of the mys- 
tery of far-off ages touched her spirit, but she 
shrank from the sensation, and rebelled against 
it involuntarily, much as she had tried to resist 
the fascination of Paul himself when he had first 
drawn her with the curious attraction of his eyes 
and voice, and the magnetism of his person- 
ality. 

She turned away abruptly and followed Mrs. 
Goring to where, further along the walls, the 
Colonel commanding the fort was entertaining a 
party of people at tea outside his quarters. 
Groups of women in pretty clothes, and men in 
comfortable flannels, were talking and laughing 
and looking at the fair through field-glasses; 
some of them chatted politely to Selma while 
her companion was occupied with friends; the 
Colonel brought her some tea and, at Mrs. Gor- 
ing’s request, invited her to look into his rooms 
where once the ladies of the Mogul dynasty had 
lived and loved and intrigued. 

Then the Collector came toiling up the steps, 
hot, dusty, weary, and thirsting for a whisky- 
and-soda, and it was well on in the afternoon 
before he and his wife and Selma Vereker de- 


290 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

scended to the fort gates where the elephant was 
waiting to take them into the crowd. Most of 
the processions were over, but as the great beast 
pushed leisurely through the turmoil the route 
was once more being cleared, and presently with 
a blast of trumpets and a steady swinging march 
a long line of almost nude, ash-coloured figures, 
numbering nearly a thousand, began to wind its 
way from the bridge of boats towards the river- 
side. The fakirs were a hideous sight, and it 
was difficult to believe that some of them could 
be human; on most of the heads the hair was 
piled in masses, caked with mud that had been 
applied while hot and allowed to dry ; the bodies 
of others were enwrapt with long tresses that 
hung over their shoulders down to the ground; 
their eyes were either fierce and fanatical or else 
held the remote ascetic expression of those who 
are raised, almost to stupefaction, above earthly 
considerations. Their skins were smeared with 
dust and ashes, their features daubed with paint ; 
some had heavy rosaries of beads hung about 
their necks and reaching to their knees, and they 
carried various emblems of their religious offices, 
tridents, tongs, bowls of wood or brass. Some 
were crowned and draped with wreaths of sacred 
flowers, and some had leopard skins flung over 
their shoulders ; a great mass of holy men, repre- 
sentatives of various forms of the Hindu faith, 
and at sight of them the crowd of pilgrims 
swayed and roared with the fervour of religious 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


291 


excitement. Some of the people ran forward and 
touched the bodies of the priests and then their 
own foreheads, with cries of “ Ram ! Ram ! Sita ! 
Ram!” and as the procession went by they 
hastened to scrape up fragments of the soil that 
had been pressed by the sacred feet. 

“ Isn’t it extraordinary?” said Mr. Goring. 
“ Look at that chap scraping up the earth and 
putting it in a brass vessel — he’ll take it home 
and use it as a charm against evil spirits, or as a 
gift for his local godling; and that fellow in the 
salmon-coloured clothes ” — as they passed a 
seated figure surrounded by an attentive cluster 
of pilgrims — “ is praying for the ancestors of his 
congregation in return for the offerings they have 
heaped before him. He’ll stick a caste mark on 
each of their foreheads presently, and they’ll go 
away delighted. A nice easy method of earning 
a living ! ” 

“ Where is Paul ? ” asked Selma, scanning the 
crowd. 

“Oh, somewhere about; we’ll find him pres- 
ently and send him up to the fort to get a drink. 
It has been a most fatiguing day for everybody, 
but thank goodness it has all gone quietly.” 

They pressed on through the people, witness- 
ing many curious devotional exercises and some 
revolting devices for the mortification of the 
flesh — devotees buried up to their necks in the 
sand, gaunt figures with arms that had been held 
high in the air so long that they had fixed and 


292 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


withered in that position. Mendicant fakirs that 
furiously demanded charity, others who received 
in lofty silence whatever was offered to them, 
preachers that declaimed passages from the holy 
book, ascetics that sat and called unceasingly on 
the names of the gods. There were stalls and 
booths where idols, toys, and sweetmeats could 
be purchased; an enclosure filled with mounds 
of human hair (for it is incumbent on the pious 
pilgrim to shave his head and body clean before 
coming in contact with the holy waters), and 
everywhere through the moving mass of human- 
ity there crawled and whined beggars innumer- 
able — blind, diseased, crippled, deformed. 

Suddenly the elephant stopped. A native po- 
lice officer had pushed his horse through the 
crowd and was holding up his hand to attract 
the “ Collector sahib’s ” attention. He shouted 
something, and Mr. Goring, leaning forward, 
called back instructions to the man, who then 
hurried away. 

“ Get on quickly,” said Mr. Goring to the 
mahout, “ straight on to where you can see the 
tents of the padre sahibs.” He turned to his 
wife and Selma. “ I don’t suppose it’s anything 
much, but some beastly fakir has started preach- 
ing cheek-by-jowl with Watson, and he must be 
stopped. I’ve no doubt he’ll shut up directly he 
sees me, but I’ve ordered some police to the spot 
in case there’s any trouble. I wish I hadn’t got 
you ladies with me, but I can’t put you down in 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


293 

the crowd, and it would take me so long to get 
through on foot.” 

They moved on with difficulty, till, over the 
multitude of heads, from the vantage of the ele- 
phant’s height, they caught sight of Mr. Watson 
standing in front of his tent, preaching vigor- 
ously, the faithful Abraham by his side. A few 
yards from the missionary were grouped some 
sullen-looking Bairagi priests, a sect that is often 
recruited from the scum of the population, and 
who mostly follow their religious calling merely 
for the sake of gain, so constituting themselves a 
burden to the country. One of them, a repulsive 
object, nearly naked, with painted face, filthy 
matted hair, and long heavy necklace of carved 
beads, was shouting opposition to the English 
padre, waving his long arms, rolling his blood- 
shot eyes, and pointing with menace at his rival. 

Mr. Goring swore below his breath. “ I know 
that brute ! ” he exclaimed. “ He’s a mischievous 
devil, and was put in jail last year by my prede- 
cessor for making himself a nuisance at the fair; 
but I thought he and his followers were pretty 
well subdued.” 

He ordered the mahout to urge the elephant 
on, but the crowd, attracted by the noise and 
gestures of the fanatic, had increased in density, 
and it seemed impossible to force a way through 
the people without causing disaster. The Bairagi 
threw up his arms and advanced towards Mr. 
Watson, uttering a torrent of excited words. The 


294 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


missionary settled his spectacles firmly on his 
nose, took an open Bible from the hands of 
Abraham, and, pointing to the pages, held it out 
to his opponent, who seized it with defiant con- 
tempt, and flung it high into the air. There 
came an ominous swaying movement from the 
crowd and a low growling murmur. 

“ Good heavens ! ” cried Mr. Goring, “ we 
shall have .a row in two minutes; — if only I could 
get forward. Ah, thank goodness! there’s Ver- 
eker.” 

Paul had just appeared, edging his way round 
the corner of the tent. Mr. Goring stood up 
and shouted to him. 

“ Vereker ! — Vereker ! — mind that chap ! Keep 
him off till the police come up. I’ve sent for 
them, and I’ll be with you myself in a second.” 

Paul stood between the still preaching mis- 
sionary and the fakir ; he looked from one to the 
other as though doubtful what steps to take. 

Mr. Goring hurriedly bade the mahout drive 
the elephant on, irrespective of the people. 

“ If he moves another inch ” — he yelled to 
Paul — “ threaten him with your cane ! ” The 
fakir brandished his brass begging-bowl. “ Strike, 

you fool ! — keep him off My God ! ” his 

voice suddenly changed — “ what’s the matter 
with the fellow ? ” 

The words, angry and indignant, rang in 
Selma’s ears with a horrible distinctness; and a 
vague, forgotten memory brushed past her mind 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 295 

of a summer evening, an English garden, an 
excited black poodle, and a little boy running as 
though for his life. For a moment she saw. 
Paul’s face, white, hesitating, irresolute ; he 
glanced quickly behind him, took an uncertain 
step backwards, and instantly the crowd, heaving 
like a wave, poured over the spot where he was 
standing. The air was full of the trampling of 
feet, of the yells of thousands of voices, of the 
dull scuffle of struggling bodies. She knew that 
the elephant was still moving, that Mr. Goring 
was shouting orders, that Mrs. Goring was trying 
incoherently to reassure her. As through a mist 
she saw the surging, straining mass waver, and 
then split as a band of police rushed forward 
striking, pushing, shouting; there was a terrible 
backward crush, screams, and thuds of blows, 
clouds of dust, confusion, horror, bewilder- 
ment — 

She clutched Mr. Goring’s arm. “ Paul! ” she 
cried, “ what has happened to Paul ? ” 

The man in his vexation and excitement an- 
swered her brutally. “ Nothing would have 
happened to him if he had kept his head; now 
he has probably got it broken in the crowd.” 

Suddenly the uproar lessened, and the space 
around the elephant cleared. The ringleaders of 
the disturbance were being led off to the police- 
station, Mr. Watson and Abraham, covered with 
dust, and with their clothes torns to rags, limped 
from the debris of their tent shaken and bruised, 


296 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

though apparently otherwise unhurt — but still 
there was no sign of Paul. 

At last one of the policemen came running up. 
“ The Sahib is over there. He was knocked 
down and swept away — he is hurt” — and the 
man pointed to where, on the outskirts of the 
still excited crowd, a group of constables were 
surrounding a prostrate figure. 

They carried Paul Vereker, limp and uncon- 
scious, round the base of the red walls where he 
had laboured ankle deep through the sand as a 
little child, and up into the Colonel's quarters in 
the fort ; and there Selma was told that her hus- 
band had been fatally injured, and that he could 
not live for many hours. She sat by his side 
holding his cold hand, praying for one word of 
recognition or farewell, seeing around her as in a 
dream the figures of Mr. and Mrs. Goring, the 
Colonel, and the doctors, until as daylight began 
to fade he opened his eyes. She bent to catch 
the first faint sounds that hovered on his lips. 

“ Outside,” he whispered beseechingly, “ out 
into the light ” 

They bore him as he lay, on the narrow camp 
bedstead, out to the fort walls; the sunset was 
crimsoning the waters, the noise of the multitude 
rose on the still air, the clang of bells and 
conches, the cries of prayer and praise. The 
dying man raised himself slightly. His eyes 
strained toward the river. 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 297 

“ Oh ! Baba-jee ! ” he cried in Hindustani, with 
a full strong voice, and held out his arms, 
“ Behold ! I am come ! ” 

And in the atmosphere of the faith that by 
heritage was in his veins, Paul Vereker’s spirit 
answered the call of the gods. 


CHAPTER XXI 


On a warm summer evening, between two and 
three years later, Robert Jardine opened the door 
of the long drawing-room at Farm Park, and 
looked inside expectantly. The room had been 
considerably altered and improved — panelling 
replaced the white and gold wall paper, deep 
couches and comfortable chairs supplemented 
the old-fashioned furniture; there were palms, 
screens, quantities of books and flowers, and a 
new grand piano stood open littered with music. 
Some one had evidently but lately left the room, 
for a magazine lay face downwards on a sofa, 
and a silk cushion had slipped to the floor. He 
picked it up and rang the bell. 

“ Where is her Ladyship ? ” he asked, when 
Trotter appeared. 

“ In the garden, Sir Robert. I took tea and 
the second post out to her under the chestnuts a 
few minutes ago.” 

Bob passed through the open French window 
on to the lawn. Long shadows had flung them- 
selves over the grass from the house, and the 
scent of flowers, heliotrope, jasmine, petunia, 
rose strongly in anticipation of the coming dew. 
He strolled along in his cool flannels, his straw 
hat tilted back from his sun-burned face ; and a 
look of blissful contentment came into his eyes 
298 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


299 

as he caught sight of his wife’s figure seated un- 
der the trees. She was reading a letter, and the 
tea-table with its polished silver, steaming urn, 
and plates of dainties, stood unnoticed at her 
side. 

“.Who is it from, Selma?” he said, coming 
noiselessly behind her in his soft, white boots. 

“Oh! Bob, how you made me jump!” She 
held up her hand to him over her shoulder, and 
he lightly kissed the cool, pink tips of her fingers ; 
then threw himself into a chair. 

“ Tea, for mercy’s sake! I have just seen the 
last load of hay carried, and I’m hotter than 
blazes and dying of thirst. While I eat and drink 
you can read me those letters, as you seem to 
scorn bodily refreshment yourself ! ” 

“ It’s the Indian mail.” She laid the closely 
written sheets of paper on her lap while she 
poured out the tea. “ The Everards have been 
for a shooting trip into the hills, and you will 
be glad to hear that the dogs enjoyed themselves 
very much, and are all the better for the change. 
She is sending you six pairs of socks which she 
has knitted for you herself, and there’s a note for 
you from ‘ the old man ’ telling you all about the 
sport. I have also got a long letter from Mrs. 
Watson.” 

“Oh! — what does she say?” 

“As usual, she encloses a most business-like 
receipt for the last remittance I sent her. How 
good she is to do proxy for me in my charities 


300 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


when she has so much work of her own to get 
through! Poor thing, she writes in very low 
spirits this time; she says she does not think her 
husband can go on much longer, he has already 
broken down twice this year, and the Mission 
authorities are urging him to take a pension.” 

“ Look here,” said Bob, “ do you think he 
could be induced to accept the living of Little 
Alconburt? It’s not worth much, but there’s a 
nice vicarage, and it’s in my gift. I heard from 
the present vicar only yesterday that he wants 
to chuck.” 

“ Oh, Bob ! the very thing for them. But will 
Mr. Watson consent to come home, I wonder? 
Anyway, he might be persuaded that a change is 
absolutely necessary for his health’s sake, and we 
could put them in there temporarily so that he 
need not feel that he was idle, and then it might 
end in his staying in England altogether. I’ll 
write to them about it this next mail. Poor 
Mrs. Watson, what a haven it would be to her, 
and how she would love it, dear soul ; a home for 
her sons and daughters to come to, and such 
a rest for the Padre.” 

“What else does she say? Fancy any one 
writing such a long letter except under threat of 
instant decapitation.” 

“ It’s principally an account of the use she is 
making of my money among the poor Eurasian 
families at Pragpur. If she comes home I hope 
she will be able to find some one to carry on the 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


3 QI 

distribution for me judiciously, though no one 
else would ever understand so well how to do it. 
She says the Gorings have taken furlough and 
are starting at once, in spite of the horrors of a 
voyage during the monsoon ; but I don't suppose 
they would care what they faced, provided they 
were on their way home. I'll read you the rest : 
‘ The Christians are in a great state of excite- 
ment over Ulick Jahans' engagement to the eldest 
Miss Lightowler, and Mrs. Christian cannot 
make up her mind whether she herself is more 
gratified or annoyed; one day you would think 
that Mrs. Lightowler was her dearest friend, 
and on the next the station-master's wife is again 
“her enemy.” However, I hear that the young 
couple mean to set up for themselves in a little 
bungalow behind the auction-rooms, so let us 
hope that they will be independent of the family 
feuds. Violet is still at school in the hills ; what 
a vast difference you have made in that poor 
child's life by paying for her education! She 
is growing into quite a nice girl, and when she 
was at home for her Christmas holidays she 
confided to me that her great ambition was to 
join the Mission when she was old enough. I 
hope she may carry out the idea instead of mak- 
ing an improvident marriage with some boy of 
her own age, which seems to be the usual habit 
of most Eurasian girls. Cyril has gone into 
the auctioneering business with his uncles, and 
is more of a “ drawing-room man,” his mother 


302 THE STRONGER CLAIM 

tells me, than ever. I sometimes see him in the 
evenings driving past our house on his way to 
the band-stand in the bamboo cart with the pie- 
bald pony, and a dreadful-looking girl of about 
fifteen seated by his side. Irene Jahans’ last 
baby is a girl; the twins can now walk, but the 
family continue to live with the Christians, and 
the state of the bungalow is beyond description. 
Una is becoming almost too stout to walk, and 
Alexander is still the jail apothecary; I should 
fancy he is likely to remain so til! the end of the 
chapter. I believe he still hints darkly that he 
could have prevented the trouble at the fair had 
he chosen, but we all know how hopelessly un- 
truthful the man is, and one can only trust that 
in this case he may be lying. We have had 
terribly hot weather, and the sickness in the dis- 
trict is appalling; the people have not yet recov- 
ered that awful year of scarcity when the rains 
failed. I don’t know when I have felt the heat 
more than I have this season, but now that 
the rains have broken it is a little less distress- 
ing, though the mosquitoes are maddening, and 

we are all covered with prickly heat ’ ” 

“ Oh ! Stop ! ” cried Bob, “ I shall have a go 
of fever if you read any more of that. India 
is an accursed country — except for the sport, of 
course.” He rose to his feet, stretched himself 
and yawned. “1’m going up to have a cold 
tub. Aunt Carrie and your father are coming 
over to dinner, aren’t they ? ” 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


303 

“ Yes, they said they would be here early 
because father wants to talk to you about those 
cottages, and something about the village school- 
master; so be ready, and then you can get the 
business over before dinner. Aunt Carrie will 
like to come up and talk to me while I dress.” 

“ All right,” and Bob sauntered off across the 
lawn whistling. 

Selma watched his fine figure with the square 
shoulders and easy carriage moving towards the 
house, and a smile of satisfied appreciation 
curved her lips. Bob was an ideal husband; he 
was even-tempered, considerate, sensible, and he 
loved her very deeply. They had been married 
nearly four months, and already the stormy days 
of her first marriage seemed like the painful 
memory of a vivid dream; her present life was 
full of a calm, secure happiness, and all she 
asked or desired of the future was that children’s 
voices might some day bring an additional thank- 
fulness to her heart. 

She sat quiet, in dreamy contentment, for some 
minutes after her husband had disappeared, then 
she blew out the flame under the urn, gathered 
up her letters and went into the house. As she 
passed through the drawing-room she paused at 
the piano and began to set the music tidy. She 
collected it into a neat heap, and consigned it to 
the depths of the square, old-fashioned ottoman 
which still held bound volumes of “ pieces ” that 
had been played with amazing execution by the 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


3°4 

former Lady Jardine in her youth. Selma won- 
dered if her step-mother would care to take 
the old books back to the Rectory; idly she lifted 
one of them out, and felt amused as the pages 
opened at “Love’s Ritornella.” 

A few loose leaves fluttered to the ground; 
she stooped and picked them up, then found that 
she was holding in her hand a tattered copy of 
“ The Love Song of Har Dyal.” 

She laid it on the piano, and stood gazing at 
the frayed, discoloured sheets. Her whole be- 
ing vibrated with remembrance : she seemed again 
to hear the words sung in the passionate seduc- 
tive voice — “ Come back to me. Beloved, or I 
die!” — that before had brought tears to her 
eyes and regret to her heart here in this very 
room. She saw the handsome, impassive face, 
and the strange green eyes that had spoken 
dumbly of the soul torn and tortured by the 
mingling of East and West; that had held in 
their depths the tired emotions of an ancient 
people — the tragic “ something ” that had drawn 
Paul Vereker to his fate. Simultaneously she 
was conscious of her peaceful English surround- 
ings, the mellow room, the smooth, well-kept 
garden seen from the tall open window in the 
drowsy haze of the summer evening, the correct 
figure of the man-servant in livery carrying the 
tea-table across the lawn from beneath the trees. 
She knew that her life’s great trial was over, 
that her lot had returned to pleasant places, but 


THE STRONGER CLAIM 


305 

the smarting tears clouded her eyes, and she 
bent her fair sunny head over the song lying on 
the piano: 

“ Oh ! Paul ! ” she whispered with a sob, 
“poor Paul!” 


THE END 











































































































































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